


Shadows and Spotlights

by Percival_T_Honeybee



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percival_T_Honeybee/pseuds/Percival_T_Honeybee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lying is typically bad, but what if you're trying to protect someone you love? In San Francisco during 1905, being a famous magician isn't easy. That's why you need someone to watch your back--a pal, a confidant, or in this case, an assistant. Taking place before the events of Don't Starve, this story explores the growing romance between a future antagonist and his old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. June - First Sight

"Mr. Carter, sir?" The wavering voice was barely audible over the din in the lounge. The hum of conversation was everywhere, from the people barking with laughter in groups to the tense quips of single travelers rushing by, attempting to juggle the infinite list of things on their minds.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"T-there's someone here for you."  
  
I lowered the newspaper I was pretending to read just low enough so that my eyes peeked over the information column. One of the bellhops stood in front of me, sweating and awkwardly wringing his hands, staring at the red carpet in an attempt to avoid eye contact.  
  
"Who?" I asked.  
  
"A lady. She's here to respond to your ad."  
  
"Oh, right." It had only been a few days, and already I had received at least thirty letters asking for an interview. To be honest, it was hard to remember which ones I had replied to. Word about me had been spreading faster than a disease, or a wildfire. Something contagious.  
  
I straightened my paper with a crack. "Fine, send her in."  
  
_Well, I wonder what crazy San Fran has brewed up this time._ I'd already had five girls... well, four girls audition for the part of my assistant. As for the fifth... well, while I seriously considered the guy, he didn't pull off a dress as well as I would've liked.

The sickly sweet smell of tea hung in the air, so thickly that the taste settled on my tongue. Afternoon teatime was part of the ritual at the Palace Hotel, more disciplined than the chiming of a clock. You could tell time just by sniffing the air. I racked my brain, mentally scanning letters I'd sent over the past week. I could have sworn I hadn't scheduled an interview that afternoon.

A bright voice chirped at me from behind my newspaper. "Hello there. Mr. Carter is it?"  
  
I lowered my paper a fraction, and I was glad I was hiding most of my face behind it, because my mouth fell open when I saw her.  
  
The applicant had a wide, warm smile and eyes that were dark like the woodwork of a piano. Her wide brimmed burgundy hat framed her cheerful face as if it were a painting.

I got up from my chair and held out a hand, which she grabbed and gave a vigorous shake. A smile crept at the corners of my mouth; her sunny attitude was hard not to mirror.

"So, you're here for the new position?"

I took a long look at her, taking in her round face and upturned nose. Behind her smile, I could see a hint of worry in her face. Her hands were clasped in front of her, making her look as though she were pleading with me.

__Okay, so she seems to be sweet and innocent young lady. Not a bad thing. I could definitely use that. But does she have what it takes?_ _

"That's right. I'm Charlie. Charlie Walters."

"Charlie? That's..." The uncommon name took me by surprise, and as I paused, her smile faltered. "A beautiful name fitting for a lovely lady."  
  
At this, she perked up. "Thank you."  
  
"It's nice to meet you Miss Walters, you can call me Mr. Carter."  
  
She quirked an eyebrow. "Mr. Carter? That sounds a little stiff. I think I'd rather call you _t_ _ _he Amazing Maxwell.__ " She waved her hands dramatically. Several silk-clad bystanders in the court turned their heads to look at us, interested. Charlie brushed the hair from her face, glancing at the curious expressions of the Rockefeller wannabes and going pink. "Or, y'know, I could just go with Mr. Carter," she said quickly.

I suppressed a smile. "Well Miss Walters, as you know, every magician needs an assistant. Have you had the fortune of attending one of my shows?"  
  
"I have. Your type of magic--I've never seen anything like it. As soon as I saw your ad... well, I knew I had to take the plunge and audition." Charlie looked away with her eyebrows drawn together, as if she was running through her response in her head and giving herself a silent chastisement.  
  
"You're too kind. I am but a humble performer." I gave a bow, coming eye to eye with her. She gave me a wry smile, and I returned it.  
  
"I'm glad you don't require experience," she said, "because I've never helped a magician before. I have my own costume, but in the ad you also said you required someone with a curious demeanor... I don't know, would you say I fit that description?" She held her hands out palm-up, awaiting judgment.

"Hmm..." I narrowed my eyes and clasped my hands behind my back. "Well, let's see. Most people would say that a curious person asks a lot of questions." Charlie opened her mouth to respond, but I continued, "It's one thing to ask questions, but are you familiar with the feeling of wonder? That feeling when you look up at the stars and realize there's something more bizarre and fantastic than any story ever written right up there?" I pointed at the ceiling. "That's the feeling I want to inspire in the audience--the fact that there's so much more to the universe than the things we concern ourselves with." Even though I was standing close to her, there was still a foot of separation between us because of our extreme height difference. "So tell me Miss Walters: do you fit the description? Is this a feeling you're searching for, and want to inspire?"

She stared at me with wide eyes, then blinked, opening and closing her mouth as if she were having a hard time finding a place to begin. "Yes, yes I do. It's what I've always wanted—to inspire that kind of feeling--and you spelled it out perfectly. Out on the stage for everyone to see, helping the masses to think differently... it's all I want." A bit of a flush had risen in her cheeks, and she bounced on her feet as she talked with her hands.

I flashed a wide grin. "Well, then I propose we have a probationary period. I have a show coming up in two weeks that I'll need help with. You can join me for rehearsal tomorrow night. If all goes well, I'll make you my assistant. How does that sound?"

"That sounds great!" Charlie blurted. "I mean," she coughed and continued in a more serious tone, "that sounds great."

"Fantastic. I'll see you at five o' clock tomorrow at the Orpheum, then?"

"I'll be there." She straightened her hat, making it more crooked than it was before. "Oh, and thank you. You won't regret this!"

Miss Walters waved goodbye as she backed away, then gathered the ruffles of her wine-colored dress, running out the door and into the courtyard, a broad grin lining her face.

I hadn't realized the lobby had gone silent until the few groups that were present started talking again. I was still looking at where Charlie had disappeared, an absent-minded smile occupying my face.

 

 

* * *

 

I closed the door to my study as quietly as I could manage and scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary. Everything looked just as I had left it.

The mirror above the fireplace caught my eye, and when I saw my reflection I jumped a little before remembering it was me. Funny, it had been more than a year and I still wasn't used to my new appearance. The pinstripe suit, the mature face, the confidant stride—it wasn't like the old me at all.  
  
__Good__ _,_ I thought, walking over to the fireplace. _ _The old me was doomed to fail.__ I grabbed the right-hand candlestick of the two sitting on the mantle and pulled it down like a lever.  
  
With the sound of gears turning, the stone wall behind where the logs would normally sit in the fireplace swung open to reveal a small passageway. Ducking inside of it, I climbed into the dimly lit secret room.  
  
I almost hit my head on the cheap light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Kneeling, I traced my fingers along the bottom of the crooked desk that was taking up most of the space in the room. Finding the lip of the hidden square panel, I pushed up and felt around the space, my hand bumping the form of the book I was looking for. I grabbed its tattered edges and pulled it out.

The black leather book looked as though it had been through hell and back, carrying unknown scars and stains on its cover and pages. A red letter M was the only thing marking the cover, a touch I added myself. I couldn't erase my memory of finding it, even if I wanted to.  
  
__**These aren't just parlor tricks,**  __the memory echoed. _ _ **This is magic. Real magic**.__  
  
I opened the book and touched its yellowing pages. My skin prickled, as if something nearby was watching me.  
  
**__This has so many possibilities... It's amazing. Exactly what I needed. With this, I can start my own show, but with magic no one has seen the equal of.__**

Tucking the book into my jacket, I grabbed my hat and left the room. I closed the secret door and glanced at the grandfather clock. It was almost rehearsal time. Charlie would be expecting me.

**__But I'll need a new name. A stage name, something better than the mundane William Carter. Something sophisticated, like... Maxwell._ _ **

 

* * *

 

  
"It feels different when you're on stage." Charlie's voice echoed through the large and drafty theater. She peeked around the edge of the curtains. Her black hair, tied in an intricate bun, glinted in the light of the giant chandelier above us.  
  
"I hope it's not different in a bad way," I said, outstretching a hand towards the lights on the rim of the stage. The border lights flashed on, illuminating the glossy wood floor and brightening up the vast room filled with thousands of seats.  
  
"How did you do that? Is the electrician even here?" Charlie narrowed her eyes at the prompter's box at the edge of the stage.  
  
"Rule number one of magic: a magician never reveals his secrets. And to answer your question, we should be alone. For the most part." I turned towards Charlie. She had abandoned her black coat in the stage wings, revealing the costume underneath.

Her dress was white and sleeveless, with intricate folds like flower petals and black gloves that came up past her elbows.  
  
"My sister made this for me. How do I look?"  
  
"Exceptional." That was putting it mildly. I looked away to keep from staring.  
  
"So, where do we start?"  
  
"Well, I plan for every performance, but those nasty shadows..." I tugged at my sleeve with a mischievous wink in her direction, "they don't always listen."

Charlie grinned.  
  
I grabbed the book from my jacket and opened it to the place I needed. Scrawled on the ancient pages were long paragraphs of Latin in black ink. A few diagrams were interspersed with the words, depicting clawed hands and strange symbols. Charlie's eyes widened and she took a step closer.  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"This, Miss Walters, is a book.”

Charlie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. A pleased smirk pulled at the corners of my mouth.

“Go on...”

“Anyway, It's called the Codex Umbra,” my face became more serious, “and it holds the secrets to summoning creatures from another world."  
  
"Okay, so that's what you tell the audience, but how does it work?"  
  
"I'll show you."  
  
With one hand, I made a sweeping motion over the book. A black substance fluttered from the spine, like a shadowy flame.  
  
Charlie sucked in a breath. "Okay, color me impressed. How did you..." She shook her head. "Right, first rule of magic." Even still, she craned her neck to get a better look at the book.  
  
"The book is usually my only prop, so that makes things easy for you. All I need you to do is hold the book like this while I perform," I demonstrated by holding the book pages to the empty chairs, "and give a charming smile to the audience." I gave the ghost audience a cheesy grin.  
  
Charlie laughed. "All right, anything else?"  
  
"Not much for now. We can make things more complicated once we trust each other more."  
  
Charlie paused, looking as though she wanted to say something, but took the book from me silently and held it like I instructed, forcing a smile.  
  
"That's a terrible smile, but we can work with it."

"Hey! It's the best I've got."

"I've seen otherwise. Anyway, they'll announce our names and we'll walk out onto the stage, and then I'll take a bow." I mocked a bow. "I'll gesture towards you, and you can curtsy." She did a quick and jerky curtsy. "And then we'll reveal the book. After that, the real show begins."  
  
With that, I extended a hand towards the open book and pulled it back sharply. A trail of shadow flames followed. Charlie watched the book closely.  
  
"Keep smiling, Miss Walters."  
  
The awkward grin returned to her face.  
  
Then, with extra flourish, I pointed towards Charlie. Her smile now looked more like a concerned grimace. I pointed from the book to the ceiling, making an arc. Upon command, a thick stream of oily blackness sputtered from the pages and followed wherever I pointed.  
  
There was a resounding boom, and I tensed. The shadows died, like a hose being shut off. I turned towards Charlie and saw the Codex Umbra lying closed on the ground. She was backing away from the book as if it had bitten her.  
  
"Miss Walters, are you all right?"  
  
"Yes—yes sorry, I just..." She pushed the strand of hair hanging just above her eyes to one side. Her eyes were staring at the ground, trying to make sense of the floorboards. "It won't happen again." She looked up at me with a hard edge to her mouth. Charlie made an effort to relax her shoulders, but I could see a sheen of sweat glowing on her forehead.  
  
__Ah, I think I moved too fast.__  
  
I knew all too well how overwhelming the shadows could be. They had a certain effect whenever they entered a room; something that sucked the warmth out of you. I hadn't really thought about how it would affect her.  
  
I took a few steps closer. "I'm sorry if that surprised you. I know it can be a lot to take in if you're not prepared. I probably should've warned you."  
  
Charlie nodded and rubbed her arms, staring off into the dark wings of the stage.  
  
Coming to stand closer to her, I made a circling motion with my hands. There was a puff of smoke, and Charlie waved a hand in front of her face, coughing.  
  
A single red rose appeared in my outstretched hand. Its petals were a succulent red, with dew drops still clinging to its velvety surface.  
  
A weak smile returned to Charlie's face, which grew more and more genuine once she took the rose from my hands. She tucked the flower into her hair. With the new vibrant red, her brown eyes reminded me of a sunset. Not the obvious red or gold that most people see, but the very edges of the sunset that line horizon, just after the sun disappears.

"Thanks, I love flowers. Do you think I should wear a rose for the show?"

"Most definitely. It... it brings out your eyes."

 

* * *

  
  
The next two weeks passed quickly. Charlie grew more accustomed to the shadows with every practice, and her smiles were more sincere every time she performed. She still gave the book curious glances, but she was never affected by their unnerving aura like the first day.  
  
The Codex sat on the floor of my secret study, its pages open and revealing a picture of a circle labeled with runes.

"Voco vos, everto ex tenebris." I stretched out a hand, and a substance that looked like tar bubbled from the spine. The tar grew, shaping itself into a grinning mouth and crude eyes, solidifying and compressing until the silhouette of a creature formed.Its form was odd and alien, with a snake body, stubby arms, and an angler fish smile. The thing hovered in the air, looking two-dimensional and about as substantial as a ghost.

"Salve, Praecantator," it rasped, barely above a whisper. "Habetis autilium." __Hello, Magician. You have our help._ _

I tried to forget the time when the ritual had gone... awry. The image was still stuck in my mind—the shadow creature that appeared that time had carried a more malevolent aura, and instead of a grin, it had a gaping mouth full of long teeth. It just stood there, staring, and I couldn't do anything but hold my breath. It disappeared without incident, but I dreaded meeting it again. It felt as if it were observing me, like a hawk does a fish. Summoning shadow creatures had always made me uneasy, but I couldn't get around the practice—it was a necessary evil if I wanted to perform magic.

 __I wonder if Charlie's nervous about the show tonight._ _  
  
An image of Charlie laughing popped into my head, and a new surge of turmoil settled in my stomach.  
  
__What's with the discomfort? A new face isn't making me nervous, is it?_ _ I hadn't felt stage fright since my early days of performing; for the first time in a while, I couldn't shake the jitters.  
  
Maybe it wasn't so much a _new_ face being the problem, but __her_ _ face.

Charlie's smile and bright ocher eyes came to mind again, but I mentally batted away the image.

__Stay focused._ _

I glanced at my pocket watch sitting on the desk and noticed the time; it was nearing eight o'clock.  
  
I grabbed the Codex Umbra and straightened my tie, a smile settling on my face that masked any feelings of doubt.

__It's show time._ _

 

* * *

 

"Ladies and Gentleman, give it up for the Amazing Maxwell and his lovely assistant, Miss Charlie Walters!" The announcer's voice crackled through the microphone. He was met with an applause that sounded like rain slapping a roof.  
  
Charlie took in a sharp breath. I glanced at her, concerned. She gave me a smile, but I could see sweat gathering on her forehead.  
  
"Hey, it's going to be okay," I told her. "Just remember what we practiced, and follow my lead." I held out my hand.

Her tense expression softened somewhat. She looked at my outstretched hand with a crease between her eyebrows, then rested her delicate fingers on my palm.  
  
With my free hand, I made a sweeping motion. "Fumus," I whispered.

With a __pop__ , smoke exploded in my face. When the smoke cleared, our view was now of the dark abyss beyond the stage rather than the red velvet curtains. The audience applauded at the teleportation trick, and Charlie released her painful grip on my hand.

I took a bow.

__If they thought that was good, just wait._ _

I aimed a smirk at the dark audience and gestured with my hands as if I were looking into an invisible crystal orb. There was another puff of smoke, and the Codex Umbra appeared in my hands.

I held it aloft, and the audience cheered. I passed the book to Charlie, who opened the tome and showed off its pages to the audience. I plunged my hand into the binding of the book as if it were a bag. My hand, which should have been visible on the other side, was in the unseen depths of the pages.  
  
Gasps sounded throughout the dark auditorium as I pulled my hand back out with a bouquet of roses. I held up them to the audience like a trophy. I doubted that I would've been able to pull off this trick a few years ago, even if I had the same black magic. My shakiness was nonexistent, and the "what if something goes wrong" mentality was far from my mind—a stark difference to how it used to be. The only thing I was focused only on was making literal magic.

Before they could react, I snapped, and the bouquet burst into flames. A man—or woman, I couldn't tell which—screamed as the yellow light flared and bits of scorched flower fell to the floor. I dropped the charcoal that was left and dusted my hands off.  
  
The bits of flower turned inky black and pooled together like raindrops on a tarp.  
  
Charlie sauntered over to the pool of shadows and placed the book face down on top of it. She backed off and stood beside me. We exchanged a quick glance, and I grinned.  
  
The book shuddered, then flipped over so that the inside faced the ceiling. The pages turned, pushed by an invisible wind, and with the sound of something cracking, two black shapes shot from the book like nightmarish trees, rising up until they towered in front of us. The shadows solidified in shape, the excess shadow dripping away like wax until they resembled two large, shadowy hands. They spread their claws, awaiting orders.  
  
I took my place in front of the book and I waved at the audience. The shadow hands mirrored my movement. The audience broke into a tumult of cheers, and my pulse quickened.

I wriggled my fingers and the shadow hands did the same. Their copying was instantaneous; they were flawless puppets. I lifted my hands in a grand gesture and pointed at Charlie, who was standing off to the side and trying not to look nervous. Tendrils of shadows snaked around her, growing until she was cocooned in shifting blackness.  
  
The shadows dissipated like clouds, and in their place was nothing—Charlie was gone.  
  
Only half the audience clapped; everyone else was murmuring to each other in worried tones. I laughed, and it echoed ten times louder in the open theater, sounding as though the devil himself was splitting his sides.  
  
I went to one knee and made a space with my arms, looking as though I were hugging a giant invisible marshmallow. I slowly stood up, and the darkness in the room responded. The shadows cast by the drawn curtains, the blackness in the audience—every scrap of darkness pooled towards me like it was magnetic water. The room brightened, becoming more of a middle-ground gray than black  
  
Using the giant hands to hold a ball of collected shadow, I released it into the theater. Everything went dark. The border lights, the spotlight--everything was extinguished, making no difference if your eyes were open or closed. This time the audience was too shocked to make a noise.

I flicked my wrists and the shadow hands turned into slashes of white against the darkness, which was now the only bright thing in the room. The hands didn't give off much light. Rather, they were selfish and kept it to themselves, making a stark white and absolute black.

I made a few hand motions, energy pulsing at my fingertips, then pointed to a place in the air. As soon as I did, a bright light appeared like a miniature star. Smoky white tendrils appeared, recreating the cocoon that Charlie disappeared in.  
  
I spun around on one foot, and when I faced the audience again my foot hit with a bang. As soon as I did, Charlie appeared. She sighed with relief and held her hands out in a showy gesture, grinning.  
  
She levitated down, and when her feet touched the ground the darkness retreated around her. Light flooded from her and set all the values right again, growing from just a drop of light until it consumed the rest of the Orpheum.  
  
One by one, the border lights flared back to life, like grinning white teeth at the edge of the stage. I could only imagine what the electrician in the prompter's box was thinking.

The shadow hands dissolved into smaller shadows and disappeared completely, ripped apart by the light. Once again, the stage was as mundane as we had found it.  
  
The crowd erupted, a rising cheer that became a roar, filled with high-pitched whistles and whoops.  
  
A smile quirked at the edge of my mouth. Charlie caught my eye; she was panting and close to laughter. She looked so alive, with flushed cheeks and shining eyes, it caught me off guard. Even though the act was over, Charlie still seemed to radiate light. My smirk turned into a full fledged grin.  
  
With the cacophony pounding in my ears and the warmth of the spotlight on my face, I took a bow.

 

* * *

  
  
I neared the boardinghouse and stopped right before the steps leading up to the main door.  
  
Charlie raced after me and grabbed my sleeve. I tilted backward, momentarily losing my balance and stumbling to right myself.  
  
"That was incredible! It was even better than I imagined—I mean, at first I wasn't so sure about the whole __dark magic__ and __evil shadow creatures__ thing," Charlie waved her hands, "but now I'm absolutely sure this is the job for me." She stopped, pink coloring her cheeks. "If you'll take me, of course."  
  
I clasped my hands behind my back and smirked. "Oh, don't worry. You passed the test with flying colors. I was looking for someone I could rely on--someone I could trust, and work well together with. From what I saw tonight, I think you're that person."

"Really? You think so? Yes!" Charlie lifted her hands to the sky, praising the heavens. "Thank you so much." She grabbed my hand and shook it up and down, nearly dislocating it. "I won't let you down."

I pulled my hand away and rubbed it. "I know you won't. See you at the next rehearsal."

"I'll be there," she said, stumbling towards the boardinghouse door. She beamed at me in the open doorway, her warm brown eyes connecting with mine. Something fluttered from behind my rib cage. The door shut with a __clack._ _ I took a calming breath.

From inside, Charlie let out a muffled whoop of joy. I smiled.

 

 


	2. July - Green With Envy

A champagne bottle popped, and there was a round of cheering in the bright and airy room. Foam spewed like a geyser and settled to a drip on the marble counter.  
  
"Here, let me get that for you," said the worker dressed in a black vest standing behind the counter. He poured two glasses of golden champagne and handed them to me.  
  
I nodded my thanks and spotted Charlie chatting with an older woman in a red dress and a young brunette in green. She was laughing and nodding, and when she spotted me she waved me over.  
  
Coming to stand beside her, I handed her the second glass.  
  
"Thanks," she said.  
  
"My pleasure," I replied.  
  
"Mr. Carter, this is Mrs. Pisum and her daughter, Carolyn Pisum. They were just telling me how much they enjoyed the show a few weeks ago."  
  
"It's nice to finally meet you two," I said. "Mr. Pisum has been a generous benefactor."  
  
"But of course," Mrs. Pisum said, her ladybug-red smile pulling at the lines on her face, "your magic acts are top notch. I have no qualms about celebrating our success." She gestured to the party. Golden banners hung from the ceiling, and tables were decorated with ornate flowers and white tablecloths. A crystal chandelier hung from the center of the room and sent a spectrum of lights across the floor. While this may have been a celebration, it was also a chance for the Pisums to flaunt their wealth.  
  
Across the way, a group of musicians played an upbeat melody on a small stage. A few other couples milled about the room, some chatting, some laughing, and only a few dancing. Mr. Pisum, the manager of the Orpheum Opera House, was having a conversation with an older woman—and from what I'd heard, a great singer—and two of her companions. The singer wore a white dress and half-lidded eyes while holding her glass of champagne high next to her face. Despite her gray hair, she had few wrinkles and a playful glint to her eyes. Mr. Pisum had his hands in a pleading gesture, and the singer quirked a smile.  
  
"You'll have to forgive me," I said to Mrs. Pisum, "I'm still learning names. Is that Anastasia Dunshire?" I nodded my head towards the lady in white.

"Yes, that's her. Her talents were truly wasted at vaudeville. Here, the only thing that rivals her popularity is your magic act."

"Isn't that where my father found you, Mr. Carter?" Carolyn spoke up. As soon as she said it, her eyes flickered to the floor, a faint smile on her face as she looked at me through her lashes.

"That's right."

"My, they were lucky to snatch you up before anyone else."

I gave Carolyn a smooth smile, and her freckles cheeks turned a peach color. Charlie gave a small snort, and I glanced at her. She was trying to suppress a smile, and looked in a different direction as she took a sip of champagne.

"Ah, Mr. Carter, good to see you," said a rough voice that sounded as though it were recovering from a cold. Mr. Pisum came our way and linked arms with his wife. "And I see you brought your lovely assistant. An excellent hire, in my opinion."

"Thank you, Mr. Pisum. We wouldn't have a full house without her." I looked down at Charlie, our eyes connecting. Her mouth twisted into an embarrassed smile.  
  
"You should see this week's newspaper." Mr. Pisum reached into his pocket and pulled out a copy of __The Call__. "There's an article about you two. I'll just read a little:  
  
_The Amazing Maxwell does it again, and this time with the help of his new beautiful assistant, Miss Charlie Walters. Last Friday they gave us the most brilliant magic show ever to grace the San Francisco Theater. They're next show is coming up quick! In three weeks, find out what all the buzz is about._ "

"I can't wait," Charlie said, giddiness barely contained in her tone. "We'll really knock their socks off."

"That's the spirit," Mr. Pisum said.

"You won't be disappointed," I said.  
  
Mr. Pisum chuckled and patted me on the arm. "Anyway, you'll have to excuse me. There are a few more comedy acts I need to solidify for next month." He turned and edged towards the group of three sitting at the nearby table. Each of them looking a little tipsy. One of the men was red in the face and gripping the tablecloth as if it was a blanket, and the woman next to him was laughing so hard her entire frame shook. The only one who didn't seem to be laughing was a thin man with side-swept hair sitting at the edge of the table, swirling the champagne in his glass. His eyes were glazing over with boredom.  
  
"Well, its been nice chatting, but this champagne isn't agreeing with my mother." Carolyn said, putting a hand on Mrs. Pisum's back. Mrs. Pisum was holding her head and mumbling something about wool socks. "I'm afraid we have to bid you farewell."  
  
"No problem, I understand. Have a good night," I said.  
  
Carolyn guided her towards the door, and Mrs. Pisum stumbled in her high heels. Charlie watched them disappear from view with an expression I couldn't quite decipher. It reminded me of the face you would make if you had made plans to go outside, but found it was stormy.

"Is everything all right?"

Charlie blinked. "What? Oh, um, yeah. Everything's great."

"You had a strange look on your face. What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, I... I just think Mrs. Pisum had one drink too many," Charlie said, putting her half-full glass on a nearby table.

She was dodging the question, but I didn't want to press it, so I changed the subject.

"So, how are you taking your sudden rise to fame?" I raised my glass to my lips and took a sip. "I'm pretty sure everyone in San Francisco knows your name now."

"I don't know. It's exciting, but still hard to wrap my mind around." She shook her head. "I mean, just a month ago I was your average child caretaker for a wealthy family right here on Nob Hill. No one of importance, easily forgotten. Now my name is in headlines. It's a lot to take in."  
  
I nodded. "I didn't know you were a caretaker. I never bothered to ask if you had any job previously."  
  
Charlie smiled. "It's all right. It wasn't the most exciting job—most of the time anyway." She laughed softly, a far away look in her eyes.  
  
The music slowed and settled into a steady beat. The few couples who were dancing came closer together and swayed to the new tune.  
  
"Well, since we're here, would you care for a dance?" I asked and bowed a little.  
  
There was a moment of hesitation where Charlie looked at me with surprise, but she took my hand. "I'd love to."  
  
I led her to the middle of the polished dance floor, avoiding the circling couples. A cocktail of smells enveloped us, from expensive perfumes to cheap colognes, all muddled with the flowery scent of the champagne.  
  
We came to the middle of the dance floor, and I placed a careful hand on Charlie's waist. As we stepped in time to the music, it only took a few seconds for our dancing styles to click together.  
  
"So," Charlie's tone was careful, "the Pisums seem like nice people. Miss Pisum especially seems to admire you. Are you two close?"

"Carolyn Pisum? Not at all. Her father being my employer is the extent of our relationship."

A faint smile touched Charlie's lips, and she followed my steps with renewed vigor.

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just curious." I eyed her carefully, but she didn't elaborate. "By the way, I have a few other questions for you. I want to get to know my employer, you see."

"All right, shoot."

"Where are you from? Did you grow up around here, or did you move here?"

"I..." I hesitated. "Well, my childhood isn't that interesting. I'm not sure you want to hear about that."

"Of course I do." She gave me a bemused expression. "Where you came from matters. It's a part of who you are, like family."

I sighed. "Well if you really want to know, I suppose I should start with that I'm actually from England. London, to be exact."  
  
"What?" Charlie blinked. A few beats passed in the music before she replied again. "But I never would've guessed. You don't have an accent."  
  
"I had to ditch it. Not exactly optimal for performances. People don't always take kindly to immigrants."  
  
Charlie looked at me with a soft sympathy in her eyes. "I've never thought about that before. You really perfected an American accent? You sound so authentic."

"It took a lot of practice. American slang is vastly different from English slang, but after a year or two of living here, the way people speak rubs off on you. I'm glad I'm convincing."

"Too convincing. How am I supposed to believe that you're really English with an accent like that?"  
  
I switched to my old accent. "I guess you'll just have to trust me." I had a start; it didn't sound anything like my old self. It sounded smoother and deeper--more confident. The accent took more effort than I thought it would, but I kept my surprise hidden from Charlie.

Charlie lifted her hand from my shoulder and snorted into her palm. "That is quite the devilish English accent you have there. I like it."  
  
"Really? I loathed it when I got here. It marked me as an outsider. Well, more of an outsider than I already was."  
  
A thoughtful look came to Charlie's face. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, staring past the other dancers as if they didn't exist. "Y'know, it's not a bad thing to be an outsider. We can turn the qualities that make us unique into our strongest gifts. I mean, look at you. Not a single show in the Orpheum comes close to matching your original ideas and style."  
  
We stopped dancing, and I stared at her. She didn't look away, and I couldn't break free even if I tried. What she said was simple, but it felt like a flicker of light in a dark room. For a moment, I forgot about the party and the other dancers circling around us; all the unimportant things faded away as we shared a moment lost in our own little world. The clarinet rolled into a crescendo, leading the other instruments into a long, drawn out note, then together they faded out.  
  
There was a snap of a bass being plucked, and a new beat picked up. It snapped me out of my doe-eyed gaze. I shook my head, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in my own skin.  
  
"Wow, what time is it?" I said, clearing my throat. "I know I promised to have you back by nine."  
  
"It's probably late. Maybe we should be going." Charlie said, distracted. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks for bringing me."  
  
"Thank you for coming. Things would've been dull without you."  
  
Charlie smiled at me, but it faltered. Something flashed behind her eyes, holding her grin back from its usual brightness. I couldn't place the feeling she was trying to hide. Was it concern, or worry?

 

* * *

  
As the quiet light of evening faded, lights burst over the bay like cannon shots. The bright streaks of color exploded and reflected off of the water, glittering and then dissipating. The crowds gathered on the beach roared with each firework, some screaming, some cheering. Somewhere, a child started crying.  
  
I tugged at my black jacket and stood on the sandy pathway leading to the beach, staying a ways away from the mass of people.  
  
For a moment, I was lost in the crackles and bright flashes. Each boom echoed across the bay, powerful and gigantic, and the smell of smoke drifted across the water. It always reminded me of war, but in an art form.  
  
"Not bad," I commented to myself. I'd only used a few explosions in my shows. Maybe colorful booms would be fun.  
  
I took in a relaxing breath and scanned the groups of people below. There were a lot of families—mothers chatting with one another while their children raced across the the beach, sparklers in hand and spraying white sand in their wake. A few fathers stood by their wives and talked in hushed tones.  
  
The whole thing reminded me of Guy Fawkes Day, except warmer. Watching fireworks hadn't been half as appealing at the beginning of November. Although I didn't have much cause to celebrate this holiday. Despite having lived her for a few years, I couldn't shake that deep down I felt English at heart.  
  
"Mr. Carter?" said a familiar voice.  
  
I sat up straight and watched as Charlie detangled herself from the crowd. After she pulled her limbs free, she walked towards me with a faint smile on her face.  
  
I took in a sharp breath as my stomach did a panicked shuffle.  
  
"Miss Walters? What are you doing here?"  
  
"I thought Baker's Beach would be a nice place to watch the fireworks. What're you doing here? I thought you said you weren't going to celebrate this holiday?" She folded her arms against the night breeze and stared at me with her curious brown eyes.  
  
"I—I wasn't," I stammered, "but seeing as I had um—nothing better to do..." I looked at the beach-goers in an attempt to avoid eye contact.  
  
"I'm glad you came."  
  
I looked at her again, and this time I didn't look away. The light of the fireworks reflected against her skin like paint on a canvas.  
  
"I was thinking about adding more explosions to our show. What do you think?"  
  
Charlie's eyes widened. "I had the same idea. But how would we--"  
  
"There you are!" Shouted a voice from the crowd. Charlie gave a little jump.  
  
A chocolate-haired man pushed his way through the crowd, shoving a small child face first into his ice cream cone in his haste to reach us. After he broke free from the crowd, he straightened his blue jacket as if an audience was watching him. He waltzed up the grassy hill and stood in front of us, blocking our view of the beach.  
  
"You didn't think you could slip away from me, did you?" He said to Charlie, winking.

"Oh, um, I... w-well," Charlie stuttered.  
  
"Do we know you?" I asked, irritation building like a quiet drum roll.  
  
The man's face screamed sophistication, with a subconscious twist to his mouth that said, __you can't imagine all the naughty things I do with my money.__ Somehow, he had more of an ego than I did.  
  
"Ah, yes, so sorry. Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Clarence, Clarence Abernethy. I happen to be a very good friend of Miss Walters." He flashed a white smile at me.  
  
I looked at Charlie, questioning with my eyes. __Is this peacock with you?__ She did a mini shrug and gave me a sheepish smile.  
  
"Mr. Abernethy lived on the same street as the family I was caretaker for. He saw our first show and was impressed. We started chatting the day after, and he wanted to get to know me better, so he asked me if I wanted to see the fireworks with him."  
  
With every word my heart deflated more and more until it felt like a popped beach ball.  
  
"I'm Mr. Carter, but you might know me better by stage name, the Amazing Maxwell." I held out a hand. When I said his name, it felt familiar, but I didn't know why.  
  
"The Amazing Maxwell? What an honor. Your last show was spectacular! A little predictable, but still entertaining." He gave me a charming, condescending smile as he shook my hand. I tried not to crush it.  
  
"Ah, predictable. How so?"

"Well, let's be honest, who hasn't seen the disappearing assistant trick?" He looked at Charlie, as if sharing in a private joke.

"Oh, yeah," Charlie said, giving a tight laugh and rubbing the back of her neck.

"By the way," Clarence came closer and lowered his voice to a whisper, "if you're going to try levitation, the least you could do is try to hide the strings."

 _Strings? If only he knew how my shows_ really _worked._

I bared my teeth and shot Clarence a look that could freeze July. All pretense of friendliness left Clarence's face. He looked me up and down, sizing me up; it looked ridiculous, considering I was at least a head taller than him. I raised an eyebrow.

Charlie cleared her throat. "Well it was nice seeing you, but it looks like people are starting to clear out. Clarence and I must be going." She took Clarence's arm. Something twinged inside me seeing their arms linked together.

"Don't worry. I was about to leave anyway. Good evening." I turned away, ignoring the satisfied smile that Clarence shot me and Charlie's conflicted expression. I walked up the sandy path that was littered with popcorn bags and dead sparklers, not looking back.

 


	3. August - Insult to Injury

"Of all the loathsome, arrogant..." I grumbled under my breath as Clarence strutted down the theater aisle as if it was a runway.  
  
"Oh, hello. I didn't think you would make it," Charlie said, tensing with surprise.  
  
"You invited him to our rehearsal?" I gave Charlie a look that rivaled Julius Caesar's when Marcus Brutus literally stabbed him in the back.  
  
She mouthed a discreet __sorry_ _ . Over the past month, Clarence followed us like an abandoned puppy. He would meet up with us after shows and “critique” my performance. He never knew what he was talking about. _Smoke explosions scream tacky. You're still using mirrors for your illusions? How droll._

I hadn't made my dislike of Clarence a secret, but he hadn't gotten the hint, unlike Charlie. She was careful not to mention him during rehearsal, so it surprised me to say the least when he swaggered to the front row and settled in a velvet chair with exaggerated casualness, stretching his arms out and taking up as much space as possible.

"Please, don't let me interrupt. Keep doing your thing." Clarence waved his hand.  
  
I narrowed my eyes at Clarence, who was now unwrapping a chocolate bar, and reopened the Codex Umbra.  
  
"Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," I shot a poisonous glance in his direction, "I want to try something new. We can't let our audience get complacent. So, Miss Walters, if you would stand center stage."  
  
Charlie complied and gave me worried look, as if she was standing in the way of two hissing cats who wanted nothing more than to tear each other's fur out. I gave her a reassuring smile. Her expression relaxed somewhat. Handing her the book, and she opened it towards the open seats.  
  
When her back turned, I gave Clarence a wide and insincere grin that pulled at my face in all the wrong ways. He sat up straight in his seat, his usually half-lidded eyes now squinting at me with suspicion.  
  
I came to the edge of the stage, facing Charlie as if I was going to begin our routine. Then, flashing my hand quickly towards the book, I made a fist and jerked my arm towards the front row, pointing directly at Clarence.  
  
A shadowy mass shot from the Codex's spine, fast enough to blink and miss, heading straight for Clarence's pointy face. Claws sprang from the shadow and formed a hand that made a beeline for Clarence, making as if it was going to grab him.  
  
Suddenly Clarence's smug demeanor evaporated—he was nothing but a mouse that was seeing his short and pathetic life flash before his eyes. In a move that must have been pure instinct, he dove for the floor.  
  
The claw snatched at air, its momentum carrying it forward until it crashed into the seat where Clarence used to be sitting. It exploded into black smoke and made the first row shudder.  
  
Clarence jumped up from the floor and dusted himself off, his face red and hair askew. Somehow, the chocolate bar he'd been eating had ended up plastered to his suit coat when he lunged belly-first for the ground.

"Oops," I said, waggling my eyebrows at Clarence's infuriated face.

He breathed noisily in and out, looking from me to Charlie, trying to peg the culprit. Charlie looked at him as if waiting for a bomb to go off. When Clarence's eyes settled on her, she took a few steps forward and opened her mouth to say something. Clarence turned away with a huff and marched out of the theater.

I couldn't help snickering. It was the only sound in the dusty theater.

_Heh, prima donna._

"Charlie, I'm sorry," I said in-between laughs, "but he was asking for it." A gleeful minute went by before I noticed Charlie.

She wasn't looking at me, but at her hands. With lips pressed tight together, she ran a hand through her hair and loosened some of her hairpins, giving herself a wild look.  
  
"Charlie, what's wrong?"  
  
She analyzed the exit, saying nothing. I walked towards her.  
  
"Charlie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for him to get upset with you. It's not fair for him to blame you for something I did."  
  
Charlie ignored me, dropping the book and turning to flee into the wings. She grabbed her coat from backstage and ran out into the hallway.  
  
"Wait, Charlie!"  
  
She flew through the theater exit, her black coat billowing behind her.  
  
I stood there on the stage for a moment, baffled. Then, picking up the book and tucking it in my jacket, I grabbed my hat and went out the theater door.  
  
From the corner of my eye, I noticed her small form running down the street. She caught Clarence by the arm, and he spun to look at her, his mouth twisted in a grimace.  
  
The way he looked at her alone made my blood boil. I lowered the brim of my hat and set Mr. Abernethy in my sights, shadows covering my face.  
  
I wove through the crowd on the dusty street, pushing people out of the way; I didn't even bother with their offended looks.  
  
As I neared, their conversation became easier to hear. Charlie was waving her hands erratically. "I promise, he didn't mean for that to happen. Sometimes it's hard to control—"  
  
"—I saw his face, he knew exactly what he was up to," Clarence interrupted, "and you were playing along with it." He pointed at her.  
  
"No, I swear I wasn't, please listen..." Charlie grabbed his arm.  
  
"Get off me." He threw her off. Charlie stumbled and fell to the ground. "If you know what's good for you—"

"Excuse me," I said, coming up behind Charlie, "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation." Clarence's eyes flashed up at me, a flicker of fear behind them. Regardless, he wrinkled his nose, which made him look like an angry toddler.

Charlie looked up at me, her eyes widening. "Oh, Mr. Carter, I..."  
  
I knelt and held out a hand, which she grabbed. I helped her to her feet easily and brushed the dust off of one of her sleeves.

"Are you alright?" My voice was low.

"Yes, I'm fine." A crease formed between Charlie's eyebrows.

The sound of dirt being shifted under an expensive shoe brought Clarence back to my attention. I looked at him, all the frustration of the past month concentrated in that one glare. He flinched.  
  
I took a few steps closer and gently grabbed his tie, almost lovingly, like a mother brushing crumbs off her six-year-old's shirt.  
  
"Pal, that isn't how we treat ladies around here," I said gently with an unsmiling face. Clarence didn't move. Lines formed at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Clenching my fist around his tie, I pulled it like a leash so that he was looking me square in the eye, his cheeks bunching up around where the tie pushed. Suddenly, I was grateful for my height, because the way Clarence shrank away from my towering frame was priceless. The people that were parting around us gave us concerned looks, and a few stopped to watch us, wary.

"Do you know what happens to sorry pricks like you when I catch them mistreating ladies?" Clarence growled quietly. I could smell chocolate on his breath. I gave his tie a yank, making him grunt. "You were close to getting acquainted with dark magic today. Show your mug around her again, and next time I won't miss. _Capiche_?"

Clarence frowned at me, but from the way he tried to pull away I could tell he was frightened. He nodded grudgingly.  
  
I released him. He stumbled away from me, massaging his neck. Clarence glared at me as he disappeared into the crowd, holding his tie like a wounded animal.  
  
"Maxwell, that wasn't necessary! We could've talked things out." Charlie tugged at my arm, thoroughly upset.  
  
"On the contrary my dear, it was completely necessary. No rascal is going to treat my assistant like that and get away with it." I inspected my gloved hand, then wiped it on my jacket as if it had dirt on it.  
  
"No, you don't understand..."  
  
Her distressed tone made me pause. "What don't I understand?"  
  
"Mr. Abernethy, he..." Charlie trailed off. She looked down at the ground, her mouth pressed into a hard line.  
  
"Charlie, what is it? You can tell me what's wrong." I came closer and gently placed a hand on her chin, lifting it up.  
  
Her bottom lip quivered, and an angry tear slid down her cheek. Crinkling her nose, she closed her eyes.  
  
"You shouldn't have confronted him. He's Mr. Abernethy's son." Her voice was hoarse.  
  
"What do you mean? Why does that matter?"  
  
A few individuals were still gawking at what was happening. I gave the mustachioed gentleman in front of me a glare so intense I half-expected his mustache to fall off. He took a few steps back and almost dropped his cane, then took off up the street.  
  
Charlie hugged her arms. "His father provides a substantial amount of money for the Orpheum in the way of donations. It's all kept quiet. He has some sort of tie with Mr. Pisum, and if his son wants us gone, there's not much we can do about it." She looked at the ground and shook her head. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault. I should've warned you and prevented all this. I was just scared. Clarence threatened..."  
  
I stepped closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at me with wide eyes and a quivering mouth.

We needed to talk, but the crowded street was not the place.

"Come with me. Let's get out of here." Charlie opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded.

* * *

  
The wind blew and carried the smell of salt from the water across the pier. Waves surged and sent foaming white water in between the rocks on the shore. Seagulls argued overhead.  
  
Charlie and I sat on either side of a wooden bench, sitting in silence and watching the waves get pulled in and out. Her eyebrows were pulled together in an intense look of concentration, and with every minute we spent there, the tension lost its sharp edge.  
  
"Do you like the ocean?" I asked.  
  
Charlie tensed again, then relaxed. She was probably expecting a different question. "Yes, I do. That's part of the reason why I moved out here. I wanted to see the ocean every day. What about you?"  
  
"I haven't had a lot of experience with oceans, besides traveling across it to get here. To be honest, it kind of unnerves me. It's vast and goes to unknown depths. Who knows what could be lurking underneath the surface? Or maybe it's just because I can't swim."  
  
Charlie nodded wearing a hint of a smile.

"Listen," she said, "thanks for taking me here. It's a nice change of pace."  
  
We were silent for a moment, taking in the sun that was glittering on the water. There were only a few other people at the pier, too far away to overhear our conversation.  
  
"Charlie, did you like Clarence?"  
  
She stopped and turned to look at me briefly, then looked out at the ocean again. "I did at first. I admired him from afar, back when I was a caretaker for that family on Nob Hill. I thought he would never notice me. But then once he did..."  
  
"It all went South?" I finished.  
  
Charlie sighed. "Basically. To be honest, he was kind of a jerk." A laugh tried to escape me, but I coughed to disguise it. "I told him I didn't want to see him anymore, so he threatened me and said it was in my best interest to continue seeing him if I wanted the show to continue." At this, Charlie clenched a fist.  
  
A flash of hot anger rose up in me, but I kept it contained for her sake. I put a hand on her shoulder, and Charlie looked at me with her wet, mahogany eyes.  
  
"Charlie, if we lose the show, it's not your fault. You know that, right? He can't treat you like that and get away with it. Not while I'm around."  
  
She wiped away a tear that was rolling down her face and scooted closer to me. Then she did something that caught me off guard: she put her arms around me. After a moment of hesitation, I patted her back awkwardly. My face grew warm.  
  
"Thank you for telling Clarence off, and for taking me here—for everything. If it hadn't been for you, he'd still be bothering me."  
  
"Don't worry about thanking me, Charlie. That wasn't something I could just sit by and watch. But all the same, you're welcome."

* * *

  
The noise of the crowd softened as I slipped backstage. Charlie followed close behind. She was giggling and walking fast to keep up with my longer legs.  
  
"That was brilliant! The exploding card trick was perfect—you had the lady in the front row jumping out of her seat."  
  
I smiled and winked at Charlie. I was still surprised with her rapid recovery after the incident with Clarence. Over the past few weeks, her jumpy behavior vanished, and her smile returned to its full radiance. Clarence had stopped showing his face around rehearsals, and there was no mention of him from Charlie. The thought made me feel light, almost carefree.  
  
"Mr. Carter," Mr. Pisum's voice carried from the stage exit, "I thought I'd find you here." Three silhouettes stood illuminated in the doorway.

"I'm not hard to find," I said. I came out into the hall, finding Mr. Pisum's usually cheery face and pencil-thin mustache looking grim. A large man in a black suit stood beside him, wearing a broad grin that didn't reach his eyes. The bleak hall lighting sucked the color from their faces and made their cheeks look gaunt with shadows.  
  
Charlie came next to me, a guarded look in her eyes.  
  
"I don't think we've been introduced," said the large man in a breathy voice. He had the sort of textured, rough face that made him look older than he probably was. "I'm Mr. Abernethy, longtime business partner of Mr. Pisum. We used to be in the circus business together, along with a Mr. Parker." He stretched out a hand to shake.  
  
I stiffened when I heard his name. Clarence and his pinched face came to mind. The Abernethy in front of me had the same lines around his mouth from a lifetime of sneering.  
  
"Abernethy and Parker's circus?" I asked, shaking his hand. “The one with the famous strongman? I've heard about it.”  
  
Mr. Abernethy raised his eyebrows. "Why, yes exactly. Our circus wasn't very popular, I'm surprised you know about it at all."  
  
"I—uh, had a run-in with it a while back.”  
  
An image of a newspaper clipping I kept in my journal came to mind. It was about the circus train that collided with mine on the way to California, the same one that lead me to discover the Codex. I'd always meant to find a connection to Abernethy and Parker's Circus, but now I was saved the trouble.  
  
"Well, I'm pleased. It turns out I had the fortune of attending _your_ show this evening. I have to admit, I'm impressed."  
  
Mr. Abernethy's attention turned to Charlie, who was trying to look inconspicuous behind me.  
  
"And this must be your lovely assistant. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Walters."  
  
"The pleasure's all mine," Charlie said weakly. A sheen of sweat had developed on her forehead. We shared a brief glance.  
  
The third figure stepped into the hall light and stood beside his father. Charlie stood paralyzed next to me. Clarence Abernethy narrowed his eyes and gave us his best bored look, as if we weren't worth his time.  
  
I narrowed my eyes at Clarence. He gave me a cobra smile that curled at the edges.  
  
"Mr. Carter, I'm afraid I came here to discuss something. Can we talk privately?" said Mr. Abernethy.  
  
"Of course," I said. Charlie turned and gave me a concerned look as she followed the two men out. I gave her a reassuring smile in return, but it felt hollow.

As soon as they were gone, Mr. Abernethy's expression darkened. "There's something we need to discuss. It's about my son."  
  
I took a sharp breath. "Is there something wrong?" I tried to sound innocent.  
  
"You know very well there's something wrong." Mr. Abernethy's voice was a harsh wheeze. "He told me you assaulted him in the middle of Market Street." He tightened the hand that was resting on his cane into a fist, stretching his glove's fabric over his knuckles.  
  
"He was harassing my assistant, Mr. Abernethy." My voice was measured. "I wasn't going to stand by and watch."  
  
"What happens between my son and Miss Walters is not your concern."  
  
I looked up sharply and fixed Mr. Abernethy with an icy stare. We were on equal terms, height-wise, which was surprising. Analyzing Mr. Abernethy's hard frown, I was reminded of the bullies in the schoolyard, back in London. I was often a prime target because I had a nasty habit of speaking out of turn.

"Miss Walters is my coworker, and her relationship with your son was affecting her emotional health and our rehearsal time."  
  
Mr. Abernethy raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure this is about the welfare of Miss Walters?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" I said, eyeing him warily.  
  
"I'm merely suggesting that maybe jealously is fueling your actions, and you're simply being oversensitive to my son's behavior."  
  
"Oversensitive? Jealous? I—wait, there isn't anything—he pushed her over in the street, this isn't about—"  
  
Mr. Abernethy waved a hand. "Regardless, I cannot recommend to Mr. Pisum that you continue to perform here. You may pull in the largest crowds, but there are other talented people here. It would not be the end of the world to let you go."  
  
Inside my jacket, the Codex Umbra shuddered. I pulled my jacket tighter, trying to be inconspicuous about it. The book pulsed with quiet vibrations against my side, like a monster growling.  
  
_What's gotten into it?_  
  
"You may have influence here, but in the end it's up to Mr. Pisum who comes and goes." I said, distracted. Mr. Abernethy didn't seem to notice my struggle.  
  
He gave me a cold smile. "We'll see."  
  
With that, he turned and walked down the hallway, leaving the building.  
  
As soon as I saw the exit door close behind him, I pulled out the Codex and opened it. The pages were shuddering as if the binding was the site of a mini earthquake.  
  
Then, something black pooled at the spine, growing and leaking onto the floor. I dropped the book as if it had burned me and watched as the goop made a puddle, shifting like oil. The puddle rose up from the ground like a loaf of bread rising, and I backed away. Jaws and spindly appendages formed.  
  
From the lump of goop, a shadow creature formed and stood before me, just like the one that appeared during the ritual months ago. It had multiple legs, a beak full of teeth, and an other-worldly coldness in its eyes that made me shiver. A horrible feeling radiated from it--a hatred that came off of it in waves.  
  
The shadow regarded me for a moment, then took off down the hallway like an evil creature being released from Pandora's box.  
  
I grabbed the Codex from the floor and took off after it, bursting through the door at the end of the hallway. Looking around the dimly lit city street, I could see no trace of the thing. Charlie and Mr. Pisum were standing next to the doorway, looking at me as if I was an animal that escaped from the zoo.  
  
"Mr. Carter, a-are you all right?" Said Mr. Pisum, holding his cane in a defensive position.  
  
"I, um..." I smoothed back my hair and coughed. "Yes, yes I'm fine, thank you." I swiveled my head, glancing at the alleyways and all the places where the shadows were deepest.  
  
"The Abernethys already left, so I think I'll be on my way. Have a good night." Mr. Pisum placed his derby on his head and took off briskly towards an automobile parked on the curb. The engine sputtered to life, and the car bumbled down the street and out of sight.  
  
"What did Mr. Abernethy want?" Charlie asked, placing a hand on my arm.  
  
Taking another paranoid glance over my shoulder, I linked my arm with Charlie's and walked with her down to the street corner.  
  
"Oh, nothing too serious. He blustered and gave me a warning over making his son look like an idiot." At this, Charlie suppressed a smile. "It was all talk, though. We're too big of a hit for him to get rid of us." I faked a grin.  
  
Charlie relaxed, her shoulders drooping. She giggled softly, then sighed. "Wow, that could have been a lot worse. I'm just relieved it's over." Her attention turned to me "By the way, why did you come running out the door as if a maniac with a knife was chasing you? It was a little odd."  
  
I avoided her eyes and thought for a moment. "I just... wanted to tell Mr. Abernethy something before he left."  
  
"Oh. Was it important?"  
  
"Not particularly. Just a passing remark."

 

 

* * *

  
  
THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL  
\-----------------------------------------  
  
****DONOVON ABERNETHY DEAD IN CABLE CAR CRASH** **

  
_On Friday, Aug. 25th, at nine o'clock at night, millionaire D. E. Abernethy was found dead after a tragic accident involving a California Street Line cable car. The cable car jumped its tracks and fell backward 30 feet, and all the while Conductor J. F. Connelly tried everything in his power to get the car to stop._  
  
_He reported to the police that everything with the cable car had seemed perfectly normal, and that the tracks should not have been slippery in the least. Connelly applied the breaks, but to no effect._  
  
_The cable car sailed down California Street and collided with Abernethy's automobile. Abernethy passed away soon after. Abernethy's son was injured in the accident, but is otherwise in one piece._  
  
_Connelly and his few passengers managed to survive the accident, but not without serious injuries. He and the rest of his passengers have been questioned further, but the Conductor claims he can't remember much of the collision, and the passengers are in the dark about what happened as well._

 


	4. September - Curiosity Killed the Cat

I drummed my fingers against the wood of my desk, my nose almost touching the headline of the _San Francisco Call_. Sitting up and facing the wood-paneled walls, I gathered in a breath and let it go.  
  
Taking my scissors, I clipped away the column from the rest of the paper and used some adhesive to stick it to a page in my open journal. There were only a few entries before it: my first encounter with one of the more aggressive shadow creatures, and everything I could find on the train crash.

I put a pencil to the blank space below.

_**The shadows have grown restless. The ancient magic I discovered has more depth, power, and malevolence than I first realized. It's unclear how much the shadow creatures can affect things in the human world.** **When Mr. Abernethy threatened to cancel my show, the Codex Umbra reacted violently. I'm beginning to think the train crash, much like Mr. Abernethy's death, was no accident.** _

_**They want something from me, but what?** _  
  
I placed my pencil back on my desk and closed my journal. Getting up, I walked towards the fireplace pulled the candle on the mantle, then ducked into my secret room. I came to the old desk and pawed around the false bottom, finding the Codex and pulling it out. It was only locked up for a few days, but already a thin layer of dust had settled on the cover.  
  
I flipped through the pages until I reached a page that had an intricate circular design, then sat the book on the ground with the pages facing towards the ceiling.  
  
"Voco vos, everto ex tenebris," I said with a hand outstretched.  
  
The Codex shuddered, black goop rising from the spine and forming a pair of shadowy fingers. The shadow creature clawed itself out of the book, its features exaggerated as if it was stretching taffy. Then it snapped free and floated above the book, its arms shrinking and its face becoming more recognizable. The creature flashed its angler fish smile at me and wiggled its snake tail.  
  
"Salves, Praecantator." _Hello, Magician._   
  
"Salves, Umbra." _Hello, Shadow._  
  
"Mihi nomen est Skits. Dominus Skits."  
  
"Er..." I reached for the Latin translation book sitting on my desk and ruffled through its pages. "Your name is Mr. Skits?"

"...Sic." He said _yes _,__  but from his tone, it sounded as if he meant _close enough._  
  
"Alright." I said, shrugging it off. I had talked to this particular shadow a few times before, but he had never offered his name. I wasn't sure if that was his real name, or something he came up with to relate to a human.  
  
After rifling though my dictionary's pages and finding nothing for what I wanted to say, I snapped it shut and smiled pleasantly at the shadow. "I apologize, but I'll have to use English. I have a question to ask you."  
  
"Postula." _Ask._   
  
"When we made our deal, you said that you wanted something in return for your help, but you never specified what. You only reassured me that it wouldn't be my life. But I need to know now--what is it you want with me?"  
  
The shadow's angler fish smile grew wider. I swallowed.  
  
"Thy debt has not been forgotten," Mr. Skits said in English, "but worry thou not. Thy use of our talents pleases us, more than thou knowest."  
  
It was time to cut to the chase. "Why did you kill Donovon Abernethy?"  
  
"We thought it would please thee to have him gone. He hindered thy work."  
  
The blood drained from my face.  
  
I was at a loss for words when I heard a knock at my door, beyond my secret room.  
  
Mr. Skits dissipated, like a flame flickering out of existence.  
  
Tugging on a suit jacket that was hanging on my chair, I ducked out of my secret room and opened the study door.  
  
"Charlie?"  
  
Charlie stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and a bit of color rising in her cheeks. "Oh, um, hi Mr. Carter. Is this a bad time?"

I ran a hand over my hair, smoothing it over, and cleared my throat. "No, it's alright. What can I do for you?

"I'm glad I found you. I, um, wanted to asks you something."

I relaxed a bit. "Fire away."  
  
"Well, the fair is in town, and most everyone's going. And you've been spending a lot of time in your office, and I thought you could use a break from work. So... would you like to go to the fair with me?" Charlie clasped her hands.  
  
"I..." I trailed off, staring at Charlie as if she just asked how my severed head collection was coming along.  
  
"It's alright if you don't want to go," Charlie said quickly, "I just thought, y'know, you'd like that sort of thing."  
  
I blinked. Did I hear that right? Of all the people she could've asked, why me? I had no doubt that Charlie was a popular person, with lots of friends to call upon.... and yet she thought of me. My face softened.

"That sounds like fun," I said.

Charlie sucked in a breath and looked up at me with wide eyes. A smile grew on her face, and I gave her a grin of my own.  
  
"Really? You want to? That's fantastic. We'll have such a great time!" She waved her hands around. "Meet me in the lobby at three o'clock."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

“Yeah, see you later!” She sped backwards down the hallway, waving goodbye and almost running into a lady who was turning the corner into the hall. After apologizing, she took one last look towards me as she took a turn and disappeared out of sight.  
  
I sighed, almost forgetting the image shadow's terrible smile.

 

* * *

 

The wind blew, carrying the smell of hotdogs and popcorn. The fair was alive with the sound of people chattering and bright music being piped from somewhere. Carnies shouted at the masses to look inside their tents, advertising everything from lizard men to contortionists.

"Look, a fortune teller! Maxwell, we have to go inside." Charlie pulled my arm towards a ragtag tent, kicking bags of peanuts out of her way.  
  
She weaved in and out of the crowd, squeaking out apologies as she bumped into strangers. They glared at me as we passed, but instead of apologizing, I narrowed my eyes and gave them a cool look.  
  
Charlie came to rest in front of the gaping tent entrance, breathing hard and a smile on her face.

The purple tent stood out on the fairgrounds. Golden stars decorated the top of the entry way, and a sign stood at the entrance with curly script that read: Madame Taletha's tent of mysteries—the future has never been more certain! From inside, the smell of cinnamon and cloves wafted out and blew in my face—I coughed, but it was better than the mixing smells of popcorn and sweaty people.  
  
"Welcome, welcome. Come stay a while," rasped a voice from inside, "and behold the wonders of the future."

Ducking inside the entryway, I noticed a woman sitting opposite from us at a coffee table. Her tanned skin looked like leather, and she wore a turquoise head scarf to cover her wispy hair.  
  
The tent was filled with things that glittered, from the crystal ball sitting on the dresser in the corner to the twinkling beads hanging from the ceiling. I lowered my head and removed my hat after getting several of the bead strings in the face.  
  
I sat down in a ratty chair next to Charlie and rested my elbows on the armrests, clasping my hands in front of me. The woman's dark eyes twinkled in the low light.  
  
"Welcome to the tent of mysteries." She gestured around her. "My name is Madame Taletha. What may I call you?"  
  
"I'm Mr. Carter, and this is Miss Walters." I gestured towards Charlie.  
  
"Ah, friends are we?" She flicked her eyes to Charlie, then back at me.  
  
The way she asked the question made me pause. "We're coworkers, and yes, friends."  
  
Madame Taletha nodded and smirked, as if she was sharing in a private joke with herself. One of the lamps lit up her face, showing off her crusted blue eyeshadow.  
  
"Who's fortune should I tell?"  
  
"Maxwell—I mean, Mr. Carter's." Charlie caught herself and looked at me. "You should go first."  
  
"Are you sure? I'm not sure I have a question..."  
  
"Definitely. I'll go after you."  
  
"Um, alright then."  
  
"How would you like me to see your future? I'm partial to taromancy, if you're not particular," Madame Taletha said.  
  
"Okay, let's go with that."  
  
Madame Taletha reached behind her and pulled out a stack of cards. She put the stack on the coffee table and pushed it towards me.  
  
"Shuffle the deck for however long you like, then separate it into three piles. While shuffling, focus on a question you would like answered."  
  
I did as she asked, shuffling the cards quietly.  
  
_Alright, let's see. Do I have any problems?_ The incident with Mr. Skits popped into my head. _Actually... I might have something._  
  
I shuffled the deck with renewed vigor.  
  
_What will come of my deal with the shadows?_   
  
I placed three piles of cards on the table, the one on the left significantly larger than the other two.  
  
Madame Taletha eyed the decks, her ring-covered fingers interlocked under her chin. "Now, put the deck back together."  
  
I put the right hand deck in the middle, and then the left on top of that.  
  
She reached forward and flipped the deck around, pulling it towards her. Then she placed the cards face down in a pattern that I didn't recognize. When she was done, there were twelve cards total.  
  
"Let's begin," she said, flipping over the first card. It had a picture of a man, his arm raised and an infinity symbol above his head.  
  
"The Magician. You are powerful. You went forward with your optimism and now you understand many things, and continue to go forward with confidence."  
  
_Anyone could see that.  
_  
She proceeded to flip over the rest of the cards, giving her explanations for each. The second was called the Hierophant, and after that came Nine of Cups, The Fool and The Chariot.

"A mentor has shared great knowledge with you. According to The Fool card, you went forward with optimism, perhaps too much, unaware of the potential pitfalls before you."  
  
I sat up with interest and scrutinized The Fool card, which depicted a man about to walk off a cliff.  
  
"Pitfalls?"  
  
Madame Taletha smiled and flipped over the next card. "Your next card is The Lovers, another major arcana card. Love is around the corner. You are lucky—not many find a love that is as meant to be as this one."  
  
Madame Taletha glanced at Charlie, then at me, then back down to the cards, a coy smile settling on her face. I caught Charlie's eye, and we exchanged a confused look. When I turned back to the cards, I could've sworn I saw Charlie blush a little in the corner of my eye.  
  
"Your next card represents how you are feeling at the present moment. Since you have The Moon card, this tells me that you're traveling in the dark. You feel lost, not knowing which solution is the right one. You worry that you are being deceived."  
  
_Her comments are vague, and yet... they're eerily accurate._  
  
"The next card is Five of Wands. Conflict abounds in your environment. You have several problems, and none of them have easy solutions. Already, you have felt a loss of control. And you're next card," Madame Taletha flipped over another card, "tells me that you fear the power your mentor has given you, and you've spun yourself into a web that will be hard to escape."  
  
I perched myself at the edge of my seat.  
  
"The next three cards will represent your future," Madame Taletha said. She flipped over the first card, an unsure look on her face.  
  
She placed it on the table. The image of a man covering his face with his hands jumped out at me. He was sitting in bed, as if he had been woken up by nightmares. Swords interlinked in the background.  
  
"Nine of Swords." The lines on her face sharpened as her countenance grew more grim. "There is pain in your future. Fear will haunt you. Guilt and regret will fill you and refuse to go away."  
  
Worry flitted across my face. I sat back in my chair in an effort to appear calm.  
  
She turned over the next card, which depicted three swords piercing a heart. "Something will happen in your outer world that will cause you to grieve. Loneliness and separation are in your future. You might even lose the one you hold dearest."  
  
I gripped my armrests. When Charlie gave me a concerned glance, I tried to pretend that I was toying with the cotton sticking out of a tear. "And the last one?" My tone was unconcerned.

_Surely the future cards aren't all terrible?_  
  
When Madame Taletha flipped over the last card, she gave a quiet gasp. "The Devil." She whispered, a distant look in her eyes.  
  
I took a look at the card and swallowed. The card had a picture of the Devil sitting on his throne, a man and a woman in chains at his feet. As I stared at the Devil's face, and the anguished looks on his slave's faces, it felt as though the temperature inside the tent dropped a few degrees.  
  
"If you are not careful," she rasped, her eyes unfocused, "you will allow others to bind you and control you. Your powers will be turned against you. The darkness, whether that be an external force or a quality inside you, will try to win. You will be both the slave and the Devil."  
  
When I realized that I had been sitting at the edge of my seat, I sat back and took a deep breath. I took a small glance at Charlie and found that she was looking at me, eyebrows raised and mouth open.  
  
_Whoa _,_ _ she mouthed.

I made an exaggerated tense face and mocked biting my nails. She suppressed a giggle.  
  
_Well, I don't know what I'm getting so worked up about. It's not like taromancy is a legitimate form of magic. At least, not that I know of._  
  
"Wow. Alright, thanks for that," I said. "No promises on not becoming the Devil, though. I think I'm pretty much there." Charlie snorted beside me and covered her mouth. "Anyway, it's Miss Walters's turn now."  
  
Madame Taletha blinked, coming to. "Oh, wha—of course, yes." She put the deck back together and passed it to Charlie, who shuffled it with a thoughtful look.  
  
Charlie's reading was mild until she received The Lovers card. Her last three cards were similar to mine, foretelling nothing but despair and ending with The Devil card.  
  
"Huh, we got similar cards. Spooky." Charlie waggled her fingers at me. I gave her an amused smile and raised an eyebrow.  
  
Folding two dollars, I tossed them into the hat on Madame Taletha's table. When I got up and turned to leave, I could feel Madame Taletha stare at my back until I left her sight.

As soon as I couldn't feel her stare anymore, I shivered. Charlie gave me a curious look but didn't say anything.  
  
The fairgrounds had turned rosy with the fading light. A few kids ran through the legs of adults and in between the red-striped tents, squealing as they tried to tag each other. A few adults made disapproving faces, but no one chastised them; perhaps no one had the heart to do so. Charlie and I walked at a casual pace, passing a merry-go-round with tinkling music.  
  
"Hey, how're you holding up?" Charlie asked, bumping my arm with her own. "You looked a little tense in there."  
  
"Oh, did I?" I said, a little distracted. The image of The Devil card was still imprinted in my mind.  
  
"Yeah. In fact, ever since Mr. Abernethy had that accident, you've been withdrawn. Is everything okay?"  
  
I looked down at Charlie's concerned face. It was odd, having someone check up on me. I hadn't really talked to anyone about much of anything since finding the Codex. Suddenly, all information about myself was being kept under lock and key.

I sighed. _Well, it's for a good reason._

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to worry about me. The accident was disconcerting, but that isn't why I've been withdrawn. I guess I've just been overworking myself."  
  
"Well then, I'm glad I brought you along. Taking a break isn't so bad, every once in a while," she said. Charlie walked ahead of me, moving towards a green bench that was situated under a tree. I followed her and sat down beside her, the bench creaking under our combined weight. We had a view of the city beyond the park; it felt as though the buildings were sheltering us from the outside world. We were safe in this haven of fun house mirrors and carnival music.

A group of three walked past us. There was a man and a woman swinging their hands between them, and a third man followed close behind, his hands shoved in his pockets.  
  
The woman wore a periwinkle dress that blew in the light breeze, and the man she was with was wearing a fancy suit. The third lanky man had a painted face, like a mime's, and wore a red striped shirt.  
  
The first man whispered something in the woman's ear. She gasped and pushed him away, smiling.  
  
"Hey, I remember those people. They were at Mr. Pisum's party," Charlie said.  
  
"Yeah, I recognize them too," I said, thinking back to the group I saw laughing in the corner. Or rather, two of them were laughing. The third had been staring into space, bored and wishing for the party to end.

The mime spotted us, then said something to his companions. The couple turned around and called out to us.

"Good evening, Miss Walters." They waved.  
  
"Hi!" called Charlie in a bright voice.  
  
The mime approached and put a hand on his hip. "Oh, and Monsieur Carter. So nice to see you. I should have known you two would be together."  
  
"Sorry, I don't think I know your name," I said.  
  
"Ah yes, I forgot. Forgive me, I'm known as Wes by my friends." Wes gave a small bow.  
  
"Nice to meet you..." Wes stooped and grabbed Charlie's hand, kissing it. I frowned.  
  
"We have just finished performing. It was quite the success; no one beats our comedy acts. Of course, they don't hold a candle to __your_ _ shows." Wes placed a hand over his heart and sighed.  
  
"Thank you," Charlie said, "that's very kind."  
  
"Miss Walters!" The woman called, approaching with the other man. "Good to see you. And I see the Amazing Maxwell has decided to tag along with you."

"Yep. You should have seen him," Charlie said. "He was cooped up in his office for days. I'm pretty sure if I hadn't brought him along, he would've made that his permanent residence." She smirked at me.

The woman came to stand beside Wes, placing a hand on his shoulder. She looked me up and down, an eyebrow raised. The other man followed close behind her and folded his arms.

"I guess I should introduce you," Charlie said. "This is Helda and Jacques." She gestured towards the two of them. Jacques nodded and stroked his sharp mustache.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you two. We're huge fans," Jacques said. The other members grinned and exchanged glances, as if sharing in a private joke.  
  
"That so? Have you had the chance to attend?" I asked with narrowed eyes.  
  
"Not yet. The seats are always full. But from what I hear, you two are legendary."  
  
"We've also some things about the two of you. Specifically, your close relationship," said Helda, waggling her eyebrows.  
  
"What do you mean?" said Charlie.  
  
"Oh, you know, the usual gossip. You shouldn't be surprised. All of the top performers get picked on. Just the other day I heard that the paper was drawing attention to our little relationship, isn't that right Jacques?"  
  
Jacques placed a hand on Helda's arm. "That's right. They think it's so fun to cause trouble. I read that they were trying to make our act look like a love triangle between Wes, Helda and myself. It was very ridiculous." He laughed.  
  
"Quite ridiculous!" Wes laughed along with them, but judging from the look he shot the two of them, it wasn't a ridiculous accusation at all.  
  
"How funny. So do you think they'll stir up trouble for us too?" Charlie said.  
  
"Not yet, although I've been reading in between the lines, and I think the papers are going to pick on you two next. They've mentioned how well you work together in your shows. Everyone's curious to know what happens behind the scenes," Helda finished with an airy tone, looking the other way and stroking her caramel colored ponytail.  
  
"You're not implying—" I started.  
  
"We don't know for sure. But I would watch yourself, Monsieur Carter. And better yet, watch out for Mademoiselle Walters. People can often be unkind to ladies when they've broken society's rules." Wes casted a gloomy look at Charlie, his forefinger on his lip.  
  
Charlie lifted her chin, looking defiant towards the very idea. "Well, I haven't done anything yet. Besides, I don't care what they think. I never have. Let them have their fun. They'll get bored eventually."  
  
"I wish I had your resilience, Mademoiselle."  
  
"We must be going," said Helda, "but it was nice to chat with someone on our level. Until next time." She made a farewell gesture and grabbed Jacques's hand, turning him away.  
  
"Farewell!" He called out.  
  
Wes took one last look at us. "Au revoir," he said, his downcast mood returning at the sight of Helda and Jacques linking hands. He turned and followed them, plunging his hands into his pockets.  
  
"Poor thing," Charlie said.  
  
"Do you mean Wes?"  
  
"Yeah. No wonder the papers wrote about them. It's so obvious he's heartsick."  
  
As I watched them the trio walk away, I thought about what they said. So far, the newspaper hadn't been lying. Charlie and I did work well together. We had a growing bond—a bond of friendship, at least. But people have a way of assuming things and spreading rumors. The last thing I wanted was for Charlie's reputation to get tarnished, and worse yet because of me.  
  
Charlie sighed, and I was suddenly aware of how close we were sitting. Heat colored my face, and I was suddenly glad she wasn't looking at me.  
  
I looked down at her as she watched the sunset. Her eyes were half-lidded and sleepy. She yawned and gave a little stretch, then tipped over towards me.  
  
It was like watching a glass vase drop. I wasn't sure what to do other than panic silently as her head rested on my arm. Once she was settled, I ordered my heart to shut up and get a hold of itself.  
  
After a moment, I relaxed a little, breathing out a sigh. As I did, Charlie smiled faintly.

"I think the trick where I make the darkness retreat--y'know, the one after the vanishing trick--is my favorite, she said, watching the sun disappear. “When I come back to a pitch-black room and watch as everything lights up again... I don't know. There's something satisfying about seeing the shadows melt away."

I froze, something clicking in my brain.

_Of course. Why didn't I think of it before?_

Blinking the sun out of my eyes, I looked down at Charlie. "It's funny that that's your favorite. It's my favorite too."

 

* * *

 

I stumbled into my office and shut the door, then took a seat at my desk. Resting my elbow on its smooth surface and putting a finger to my temple, trying to organize my thoughts.

I needed a better way to protect myself and others from the shadows—a way to control them when they decided to disobey. I always had a feeling they would become a problem, but my plan of defense before had involved not using the book anymore. That wasn't an option—not with a crowd of millions expecting me to perform. I wouldn't go back to being the magician I used to be. Those days were over.  
  
Retrieving the Codex from the secret room, I set it down on my desk and leafed through its pages. I still remembered what Charlie had said earlier; _there's something satisfying about watching the shadows melt away_. It reminded me of a passage I saw in the back of the book, but didn't pay much attention to.

I passed diagrams of spells and ancient magical artifacts. When I neared the end of the book, I spotted a passage titled, _The Balance of Light and Dark_ in Latin.  
  
I skimmed through the passage.  
  
_**The balance of light and shadow is delicate. I say unto thee, one cannot exist without the other. So as there is shadow conjuring, so can thou conjure the light.**_  
  
I went on to read the rest of the page, which had several spells, all of which pertained to summoning light. According to the book, the basic idea involved adding energy into a source. The first spell was a simple phrase in Latin.  
  
My lamp was glowing warmly on the desktop, and was right now the only source of light in the room.  
  
I outstretched a hand. "Umbrae recedere, lumino!" _Shadows recede, illuminate._  
  
The lamp grew brighter and brighter until it blinded me like a spotlight. I shielded my eyes, and when I did, the light died.  
  
As soon as the light was gone, I felt weak. I had already felt drained because of the day spent at the carnival, and now I could barely stand. I supported myself with a hand on my desk, and when I did my arm wobbled.  
  
Despite feeling exhausted, I smiled. _Your move, Mr. Skits._

 


	5. October - Something Wicked

Charlie hummed with the bouncy melody streaming from the gramophone in the corner, her hand moving in a wide arc as her pencil glided across the page.

I stood off to the side of the room, admiring the knick-knacks sitting on her dresser. There was a _Sherlock Holmes book_ with dog-eared pages, an ornate vase with a rose, and a picture of Charlie with another woman that looked a lot like her, with a similar face shape and upturned nose.  
  
"What are you smiling at?" Charlie asked, a mischievous smirk on her face.  
  
I straightened. Had I been smiling? "Er, I was just admiring the picture. Is this lady in the photo with you your sister?"  
  
She nodded. "That's Miranda. We took that a few months before I left for San Francisco.” A faint smile touched her face. After a moment, her eyes widened and she jotted something down on the paper. “I have an idea,” Charlie said briskly, writing so fast that she was probably only making scribbles. “Come take a seat and I'll explain what I have in mind."  
  
I stepped over pile upon pile of brainstorming lists, being careful not to knock any over, and sat in the armchair close to her. Charlie stood up, clearing her throat. Glancing at her paper, she said, "Alright, picture this." She held both her hands out, palms facing towards me. "You stand, center stage, illuminated by the spotlight. The light casts a shadow, but little does the audience know..." Charlie made a motion of her fingers walking across her palm.

"It's one of _my_ shadows," I finished.  
  
"Exactly. The shadow then starts to move on its own. It changes its shape so that it looks like a person, then follows your actions, kinda like a mirror, or an echo. Then I come onstage, and... well, that's all I've got so far. What do you think?"

"Can I see the idea paper?" I asked, holding out my hand. Charlie passed the paper to me, and as she did, our hands brushed. I pulled away quickly, then straightened the paper with a _snap ._ My skin tingled where we touched. "This won't be easy, but if we pull it off, it could be one of our best tricks yet." At this praise, Charlie balled her fists with excitement and grinned. "It just needs a _little_ something extra."

I turned the paper over, which was covered front to back with words. Nothing in particular jumped out at me. Movement from behind the paper distracted me, and when I lowered it I found that Charlie was swaying to the jumpy melody, her back to me.

She turned around and noticed me looking. "What are you looking at?" A smile touched her face. Something in my head clicked.

"You just gave me an idea. I need to test it, but... this could work. I'll need a bit of time to experiment, but we need to rehearse as soon as possible." I stood up and came close to Charlie. She watched me with interest as I took her hands in mine. "Are you free for a rehearsal tomorrow?"

"Oh, um, d-definitely. My time is yours." Charlie brushed the hair from her face.

I looked for a few seconds too long, and as I did, a bemused smile crept onto her face. When she didn't look away, we stood there staring at each other, and the music playing in the background faded into white noise. I felt ten times more aware of where I was, and how close I was to her. I had the urge to brush Charlie's cheek with my fingers, but before I could act on it, I let go of her hands, remembering myself and what I was doing.  
  
“Good. Great...” I had to look elsewhere—after that close moment, looking at Charlie now felt like looking at the sun. I turned my attention to one of the idea pages on the floor and nudged it with my shoe. “I'll—um, get started experimenting immediately. See you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

I yawned as Charlie walked up the stage steps.  
  
"Hey Maxwell, how are you doing?" Said Charlie, taking in my tired demeanor.  
  
"Fine, don't worry about me. I just spent most of last night practicing,” I said. Charlie folded her arms and tapped a foot, giving me a hard look. I ducked my head and rubbed the back of my neck. "Um... what I meant to say was, I got to bed at a reasonable hour and perfected this trick in my sleep. I think you're going to like it."

  
The spotlight flashed on, casting a shadow behind me onto the backdrop. Opening the Codex Umbra, I pointed towards my shadow and made a gesture for it to come closer. A shadow creature the size of a bird flew from the book's spine and combined with my shadow, so quickly you could have blinked and missed it. The shadow shuddered, then leaned forward, peeling itself from the backdrop and coming towards me, like a piece of paper learning to walk.  
  
As it neared me, the shadow became more three dimensional--a perfect silhouette version of myself.  
  
Charlie's jaw dropped. "It's perfect. But how...?"  
  
I smirked, despite the migraine that suddenly hit my head like a ton of bricks. "My late night was worth it; you're reaction is all I could've hoped for."  
  
This earned another reproachful look from Charlie, but she came closer to inspect the shadow regardless. "I'm amazed! It's exactly how I imagined it. The audience is going to love this."

While she was distracted, I blinked and shook my head. Was it just me, or had the room suddenly become more... gray? Charlie tried to place a hand on the shadow's shoulder, but her hand went right through it.  
  
"You should be congratulating yourself. It was your idea, after all."  
  
Charlie gave me a soft smile. "Thank you. For taking me and my idea seriously, I mean."  
  
This made me pause. "Of course I took it seriously. We're coworkers after all, and friends. Your input is important to me."  
  
Charlie's eyes widened. She turned away, a faint smile touching her lips.  
  
"So, would you care for a dance?" I nodded towards the gramophone I set up in the corner. The needle dropped seemingly on its own, and the record started to move. A melody jumped to life, filling the room with the plucking beat of a bass and a single warbling clarinet.  
  
Charlie placed a tentative hand in mine. I pulled her in, and she instinctively twirled, her back meeting my stomach.  
  
I twirled her out again and took a step towards her, putting a hand on her waist. She put a hand on my shoulder, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. I grinned back at her.  
  
We turned together in a circle, and then I separated myself from her, raising an arm above her and spinning her in place.  
  
Right on cue, the shadow stepped in and made a motion to grab her hand. Charlie sensed what was going on and followed the shadow's lead.  
  
"Those are some nice moves you've got there," I said, giving Charlie a teasing smile. She winked and grinned at me as she turned, gliding with the silhouette across the stage. Despite the fact that Charlie couldn't actually touch the shadow, their dance was convincing. The shadow followed her movements flawlessly.  
  
As they came close again, the shadow released her, and she interlocked hands with me. Our eyes met, and as we came to center stage, the music slowed to a halt.  
  
My hand fell away from Charlie's waist, and her hand drew from my shoulder.  
  
"So, what do you think?" I asked quietly.  
  
Charlie was breathing hard, and her eyes were shining. "I can't wait to perform it--this is exactly what our show was needing. I hope everyone likes it. We need to pull out all the stops, now so more than ever. Can you believe what Mr. Pisum said? People all the way from New York City are coming to see us perform!"  
  
"Sometimes I believe it, and sometimes I don't. I mean, this is where I've always envisioned myself. But it's strange that I'm actually _living_ it. It's a little different than I imagined."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I have you."  
  
Charlie stared at me, pink rising in her cheeks. Silence passed between us.  
  
I coughed. "Well, I mean, your help has been invaluable. I never expected to have such a great assistant. To be honest, this show wouldn't be the same without you." I turned away, pretending to straighten my tie as my face grew hot.  
  
She placed a hand on my arm. I looked at her delicate face; her slim eyebrows and mouth accustomed to smiling, an upturned nose and ocher eyes full of life.  
  
Without my consent, my hand went to touch her cheek. As I reached out, I realized what I was doing and corrected my course. I placed my hand on her shoulder instead. "Shall we... try again?"  
  
"Y-yes. That sounds like a good idea." Charlie tucked her loose hair away from her face, casting a distracted glance at the ground.  
  
We continued to practice, each time becoming more fluid. I would summon the shadow, and Charlie would pretend to be surprised, turning towards the audience and making an O with her mouth. Then I would come in, taking her hand and starting the dance.  
  
I made the shadow dissipate for a final time; it backed away, pretending to look worried, then shivered out of existence.  
  
As soon as it did, my headache eased up, as if a giant hand had loosened its grip from my skull.  
  
"I can already hear the applause," she said.  
  
I gave her a crooked smile. "That was a pretty smooth practice. I think we could do with one more rehearsal though, perhaps on Thursday, and then we'll be ready for the show the day after. What do you think?"  
  
"Good plan. I'll see you then. And Maxwell?"  
  
"Yes?" I had been tucking the Codex away in my suit jacket, but I paused to take in her sudden change in attitude. She bit her lip and rubbed one arm, a crease forming between her eyebrows.  
  
"Well... my sister is in town. She wanted to talk to me about something, and I said she could meet me after rehearsal. Is it alright if we talk in here? I promise I'll lock up."  
  
I pulled the key from my pocket. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"I hope so. She said she wanted to talk about something important, but she didn't say what. I'm sure everything's fine," Charlie said, but she looked as though she were trying to convince herself. She didn't seem to notice my concerned look.

I handed her the key, regardless. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.  
  
"Thanks. I'll get this back to you on Thursday, I promise."  
  
"I know. See you then."  
  
"Okay, bye for now," she said, watching me go. I walked into the darkness of the wings, finding my hat and my overcoat. Before I turned to leave into the outside hall, I glanced at Charlie's face when she thought I wasn't looking. She folded her arms, a day's worth of worry flashing over her features, settling in like a storm cloud.

I walked into the hall and came to the side doors. I opened them, then let them close, making it sound as if I left the building. The light from the stage wings was the only illumination, so I came closer, trying not to trip on anything, and peered onto the stage. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear voices coming from the direction of the front row.  
  
As I came into the wings, the conversation became much clearer.  
  
"...about your friend."  
  
"Max—I mean, Mr. Carter?" I recognized Charlie's voice easily.  
  
A similar, slightly deeper voice answered hers. "That's the one. Have you been in town recently?"  
  
"Miranda, we're in town right now."  
  
"You know what I mean. Have you read the newspaper, at least?"  
  
"Not really. Why, is it bad?"  
  
"Well... they're saying things. About you and Mr. Carter."  
  
There was a pause. "I had a feeling this was coming."  
  
"People probably wouldn't be spreading the rumors if it wasn't for their source of information. Do you remember that boy you used to like?"  
  
"Clarence Abernethy?" Charlie's voice sharpened. I tightened my hands into fists.  
  
"Yes. He's been telling the newspapers that you two are awfully close, for an unmarried couple. I don't want to go into the details, but people are eating it up."  
  
_Oh... oh no. Charlie..._  
  
Charlie was silent for a long time. "Of course they believe him. Clarence must have told them that we were close for a time. And the fact that he has influence... well, there wasn't much we could've done to stop this _._ "  
  
"It gets worse. They've gotten sources from inside the theater to confirm the stories."

"What? Who?" Charlie sounded taken aback.

"I don't know. They were anonymous."

"Oh." Her voice was quiet. "I thought... who would do this? We're all in this together. I know most everyone who performs here, and none of them..." Her voice thickened at the end. She took a steadying breath. I huffed silently, breathing out hot air through my teeth. What sort of scum had the nerve to betray Charlie like that? Dragging my name through the dirt was one thing—no one at the Orpheum really cared for me. But Charlie had never done anything to deserve that kind of treatment. "Well, maybe I didn't know the other performers as well as I thought I did. Mira, I promise you, it's not like that." Her voice was tight.

I took in a small breath, a dark, murky feeling washing over me. That shouldn't have hurt me. It should have been plainly obvious to me by now that developing any sort of feelings for Charlie was a bad idea. Already, her reputation was being attacked. The last thing I needed to do was add fuel to the fire, and yet I couldn't help that my balled fists went limp at that sentence.  
  
"Oh, Charlie. Come here." There was a pause and the sound of someone shifting in their seat. "I know it's hard to have your trust broken like that. You always see the good in everyone, but people aren't perfect."

Charlie was silent.

Miranda paused, choosing her words carefully. "Be careful, Charlie.People can be cruel. If I were you, I'd try to keep my distance from Mr. Carter, just for a little while. Let things calm down, and things will be back to normal before you know it."

I could barely hear Charlie's voice. "You're right. Thanks, I'll take your advice. Hopefully we can get through this mess in one piece."

Several emotions clashed inside me, and I wasn't sure which one should come out on top.  
  
We had been warned, but I hadn't taken the threat of the press poking at us seriously enough. Now Charlie was paying the price. I gritted my teeth. Of course people would whisper about me now, but it would be nothing in comparison to how they would treat Charlie. The tarnishing of a lady's reputation was not as easily forgiven by the public.  
  
Whatever guilt I felt over Mr. Abernethy's death was cast aside. Clarence Abernethy started this war, and I was going to finish it. The thought set me at ease, if only a little bit. It was enough to make me stop pressing my teeth together so hard.

_You better watch your shadow, Abernethy._

 

* * *

 

 "We really had things down this rehearsal. I'm so excited for tomorrow, I don't know if I'll get any sleep," said Charlie as she observed a shop window full of flowers. I stayed behind her, smiling at her look of wide eyed fascination with the exotic-looking yellow ones sitting up front.

"You're always excited for the shows."  
  
Charlie turned to face me and crinkled her nose, smiling. "That's true, but this time is special. I can feel it."  
  
Coming back to my side, she grabbed my arm, and we continued to walk down the sunshine filled street. There weren't many people out today, but the ones that were out were walking leisurely. It was like everyone was trying to drink in whatever sunshine was left before the winter rainstorms came, and if they walked slow enough, they could suspend time for a while longer.  
  
Light bounced off the glass shop windows, and the signs above each store were colorful with extravagant writing. A variety of different wares lined the street, from hats to mustache trimmings. Charlie made a point to take a glance at the window of each shop, as if Market Street was a zoo and each shop housed strange animals rather than humans.

"I've missed this," Charlie said, not facing me. It had been weeks since we last interacted outside of work. We both agreed that it would be best to keep our distance in public, since the last thing we wanted to do was propel the rumors. I wasn't sure how well the tactic was working. I didn't know how people were treating her outside of the Orpheum—Charlie always kept a stiff upper lip around me. I figured escorting her home would be the best way to find out.

"I've missed this too. Without your company, I've had to resort to talking to the other performers. That's it's own special kind of torture." I made an exaggerated grimace.

"Hey, the other performers are fantastic people. You could stand to get to know them better." Charlie smirked at me.

 _I'd beg to differ._ The performers that fed us to the wolves were still high on my hate list.

When we came to the street corner, a cable car slowed beside us and stopped.  
  
We climbed inside the stuffy car and took a seat on one of the wooden benches, where a stout older woman and a group of four were sitting as the only other occupants. The older woman had a pinched face and wore a hat with an oversized feather that dangled in front of her face. She shifted in her seat and eyed us, clasping the groceries on her lap as though she thought we would try and steal them. I narrowed my eyes at her, but said nothing.

The group of four sitting further down was chatting, but when their gazes flickered over at us, their voices turned into whispers.  
  
"That's definitely them," said one of the ladies.  
  
"Hush!" The other lady gently nudged her companion. "They're right over there."  
  
"So they're famous. What's the big deal?" Said one of the men. His blonde hair was combed perfectly into a shiny wave. He eyed us with contempt.  
  
"Have you read the paper?"  
  
"I don't read __that__ _section_." He made a sour face.  
  
"Well, then I guess you wouldn't know," said the first lady in a mysterious tone.  
  
The blonde man paused, frowning.  
  
"I've read it," said the other man with dark hair and a darker suit. "It's pretty juicy, and brings up some interesting questions. They even have inside accounts from the Orpheum."  
  
I gripped the edge of my seat. Unease settled in my stomach like water coming to a boil.

_Is Charlie listening to any of this?_

Charlie had sunk lower in her seat, and she wore a pensive expression. I grabbed Charlie's hand and gave it a squeeze. I gave her a look that asked if she was alright. She nodded, then stared straight ahead with the same troubled expression.

"It makes sense, when you think about it. How could they perform together in such a proximity and not get... close?" Said one of the ladies, close to giggling.

“Or maybe it's more sinister than that. She's employed under him, right? An employer can always manipulate his employee.”

The dark haired man nodded. "Well, that is a possibility, but did you see the bit where they interviewed Mr. Abernethy? Apparently Miss Walters used to be his girl. From what he said, she's the sort of person who seduces to get what she wants. It would make sense if she was just using him to get a higher salary."  
  
My lip curled. Charlie's hand tightened in mine, a determined set to her jaw. I tried to stand up, but Charlie's hand grabbed my shoulder. When I opened my mouth to ask why she was holding me back, she shook her head.  
  
The old woman across from us puckered her lower lip as if she tasted something sour and stared at Charlie. Charlie looked at the ground, breathing out a sharp _huff_.  
  
"Let's get out of here," I whispered to her. She nodded, looking relieved.  
  
As soon as the cable car came to a stop, we got up to leave. It was a stop too early, but walking the rest of the way would be heaven in comparison.  
  
I went first, and as Charlie came behind me, the older woman grabbed her hand.  
  
Charlie's face was a pleasant mask. "Excuse me, is there something wrong?" Her tone was hard.  
  
I froze, ready for the worst. I considered pulling her free, but Charlie stood firm and probably wouldn't have budged even if I tried.  
  
"I just wanted you to know how disappointed I am. My husband and I used to love your shows, but now that I know how you two are involved with each other, and unmarried... It's upsetting."  
  
With each word, Charlie stiffened. She yanked her hand free from the woman's grasp, her face reddening. The group of four watched the proceedings with morbid interest and stayed silent.  
  
"I'll tell you what's upsetting." Charlie's voice was a low growl. She pointed a finger straight at the woman's face, and she recoiled with surprise. "How can you people gain such satisfaction from tearing down a stranger? Did you ever stop to think that there was a person underneath those newspaper stories--someone with thoughts and emotions, just like you? For the past few weeks, I haven't been able to go anywhere without your self-righteous kind thinking that they know me and my story." I stared at her with my mouth agape. The cable car was deathly silent. "I know who I am. I don't need your approval or your opinion."

The older woman was silent, her eyes narrowing. The heads in the corner looked down simultaneously.  
  
Charlie took my arm and lead me out of the car, her shoes clacking against the wooden flooring as we left behind five stunned passengers.  
  
Things had gotten cloudier, and the windows were no longer gleaming with light. Charlie made a beeline for the boarding house, ignoring everything as she towed me along. I didn't protest.  
  
We came to the front porch of the boarding house, which was covered with peeling paint. Pushing past the front doors. I looked at Charlie's face as we climbed the stairs—it looked as though her emotions were churning inside of her like magma in a volcano, threatening to ooze out and burn everything in its path.  
  
Charlie neared her door and stopped. She paused, her back turned to me. She went for the door handle.  
  
"Charlie, wait."  
  
Her fingers rested on the dented brass knob. I placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around.

Charlie's face had grown distant. She looked at the ground, a crease between her eyebrows and her lips pinched together, as though she were trying to hold it all in.  
  
I titled her chin up, and a tear rolled down her face. Our eyes met.  
  
Like a dam breaking, Charlie gave up the fight and let the tears run freely. She took a step forward and grabbed my rib cage, hugging me tightly and burying her face in my suit as she quivered. A sob escaped her and cut off abruptly, high pitched, like a horse whinnying.  
  
I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly.  
  
"Oh no, Charlie, _shhhh_. We'll figure this out," I said, lowering my face to her hair, which was soft and smelled faintly of vanilla. "They don't know you. If people had any sense, they'd leave you alone. They're all mindless gossipers. You're so much more than any of them realize."  
  
Charlie lifted her head from my now wet suit coat. The skin around her eyes was turning red, and her hair was ruffled thanks to me, but she didn't look any less beautiful. Her brown eyes were shining, and red tinged her cheeks.  
  
"Thanks Max. I—I'm sorry about this—"  
  
"—don't be. I had a feeling this was going on, but you've been so cheerful around me, it was hard to tell. You have a right to be upset. If there's ever something wrong, I want you to tell me about it. We're a team. Team members look out for one another."

She nodded, wiping her cheeks. Turning the handle to her room, she walked into the bright interior. I followed close behind, shutting the door behind us and putting my hat on her coat rack.

"Charlie, in light of recent events, there's been something I've been meaning to talk to you about."  
  
Charlie had stepped into bathroom and was wiping her face with a wet towel. When I spoke, she looked at me with a serious expression.  
  
"What would that be?"

Looking at her made what I needed to say a hundred times harder, so I looked at the window just above the kitchen sink, where sun was filtering through. I knitted my hands together.

I meant to say it in a calm, professional way, but it all came out in a rush. "I don't expect this will be the last time the newspapers will try to slander us. Your happiness is important to me," this next part killed me to say, "so if you want to resign—"  
  
"Resign?" Charlie's eyes widened.  
  
"Charlie, this will always be a problem, and after what I've seen today... I just don't want you to be miserable." I looked down at the wooden floor.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Charlie's face soften. She came towards me and put a hand on my arm.  
  
"Now you listen to me, Mr. Carter. It's gonna take a little more than some overexcited journalists to get rid of me. We can't let them win. I'm staying with you."  
  
I looked up with surprise. Charlie smiled.

"It's not going to be easy,” I said. “I don't know when the rumors will die out, or if they ever will. Are you sure you're prepared to deal with that?"

Her expression hardened. There was a steely look in her eyes. "I can handle whatever they throw at me. I've come this far, haven't I? I can't afford to give up now. Finding a job to help my family was one thing, but performing, with you... it's like something out of my fantasies. I've always dreamed of inspiring wonder in a crowd and making people smile. I'm not going to let those headlines get in the way of that."

Something inside me eased up, like the strings of an instrument being loosened. I grinned. "It may sound selfish, but I'm glad you didn't take my offer to resign seriously. I don't know what I'd do without you."

 

* * *

 

Mud squished under my shoes. The scent of clean earth was everywhere; I tried to inhale more than exhale.

"That was really fun," Charlie said, a small smile settling on her face. She kicked a stone out of her path. "I didn't know Anastasia could dance like that."

I made a face. "If you could call it dancing. It looked more like she was boxing with an invisible kangaroo."

Charlie laughed—a musical sound. She covered her mouth with a hand.

Even in her ghoulish outfit, she still looked lovely; dark makeup was smudged under her eyes, and her face was powdered white, reflecting the moonlight. Her white dress flowed in the night air, covered by my jacket which I had offered once the temperature dropped. She had it pulled around her shoulders, the sleeves almost touching the ground.  
  
My costume was similar. My face was painted to look like a skull, and a cloth rib cage was stitched onto my black suit.  
  
Charlie bumped into me as we walked. "Sorry Max." She gave a yawn. I resisted the urge to yawn with her.  
  
"Don't worry, I'm barely awake myself."

A thought passes over Charlie's features, like a cloud momentarily blocking the sun.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing too serious," she said, "it's just... I can't believe that a few of those people at the party supported the story in the paper."

I placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder. “Y'know, I suddenly don't feel bad about scaring the punch out of that one actor. For all we know, it could've been him.”

Charlie pushed me with a smile. “You wouldn't feel guilty over that anyway.”

I grinned. “Probably not. Halloween's my favorite holiday for a reason.”

It had been a week and a half since the newspapers had spread rumors about us. Whenever we would walk on the streets together, people would glance at us and whisper once they thought we were out of earshot.  
  
_Did you hear?_

_Do you think it's true?_

_Such impropriety!_

Haughty people choked San Francisco like a cancer, and often they would refuse to acknowledge us, sometimes even crossing the street when we approached. Charlie pretended like it didn't get to her, but I could see a hint of anger prick at her every time it happened—her shoulders would tense, but she would force a smile and walk on with a determined gait.

  
Only now were the rumors beginning to die out. The papers had chosen a different performing group as their prey. Just the other day, the people had started to whisper about them instead.

When I first heard that the Orpheum performers were throwing a Halloween party, I had been reluctant to go. The last thing I wanted to do was go party with a back stabber.  
  
I wouldn't have gone had it not been for Charlie. She dragged me to the party, claiming that I couldn't spend Halloween cooped up in my office. She was better at forgiving people.

We passed a few dilapidated buildings, their red brick worn and covered with ivy. I ran my fingers along their cracks and bumps, trying to commit to memory the character of the sleepy street and the taste of the fresh night air. Charlie glanced at me and smiled softly. She linked arms with me, and we continued down the street, at ease with being side by side.  
  
Turning a corner, we came to the old white boarding house. Two bedroom lights were on, but otherwise the building was quiet. As we came to the front steps, I grabbed Charlie's hand.  
  
Words sat in my mouth. _Charlie, wait. I want you to know... I want you to know how I feel about you. I care about you, Charlie. I can't see myself without you._ But every time I ran the sentences through my head, that day on the cable car came to mind. The rumors were just beginning to die out. Starting something like that and feeding the rumors again was the last thing she needed.

A few moments of silence passed. I looked into her eyes, and that was all it took for my words to shrivel like a flower under harsh sunlight.

"Charlie, I... I'm glad you had a good time tonight," I said lamely. I took in a breath, then let go of her hand. My heart was hammering as though my toes were at the edge of a cliff.  
  
Charlie drew her eyebrows together and cocked her head, a smirk touching her lips. She came closer to me, pausing to stand only a few inches away. I forgot how to breathe.  
  
"Thanks for coming with me," she said, "I needed something else to think about."  
  
I put a tentative hand on her shoulder. I was suddenly thankful for my face paint; Charlie couldn't see my flushed face. "I know what you mean. Sometimes its nice to forget."

Charlie slipped my jacket off her shoulders, a thoughtful look passing over her face. She looked back up at me. "Yeah... Well, goodnight Max." She closed the distance between us, pressing her face to my chest in a hug.

"Goodnight," I wheezed.

When she let go and turned to leave, I still has the feeling that there was more to say, but I let her go anyway. I watched as she walked across the boarding house porch and closed the creaking door behind her.

I turned away and walked down the empty road in the direction of Market Street, aware of the absence of warmth by my side.

Things were starting to get out of hand. It only escalated, the more I spent time with her. Any day now, I could slip up and say something stupid.

Perhaps while rehearsing, I would accidentally tell her I was amazed by the way she loved people, even the ones she didn't know yet, and while admiring the way her eyes brim with life, it would all become obvious, and she would figure out how I felt about her in an instant. She was sharp like that—aware, like she was the only one awake in a city full of sleepwalkers. It was only a matter of time before I was caught.

With my thoughts preoccupying me, I turned a corner. I wasn't prepared for the fist that met my stomach.

I doubled over, my mind scrambling for answers as I looked at my attackers. Two men, nearly as tall as me with heavy shoulders stood over me. I straightened and put a hand to the wall to steady myself. Their eyes glittered with cold light behind their masks.

_Muggers? That wouldn't surprise me, in this neighborhood._

I reached for the Codex inside my jacket pocket, but my fingers touched empty air. I froze, seeing an image of the Codex forgotten in my secret study desk.

The muggers grabbed my arms, nearly popping them out of their sockets, and hauled me into the nearest dark alley. They threw me, and I smacked my back against the brick wall. I stood and threw myself forward, summoning what little fighting experience I had from the schoolyard as I aimed a punch at one of the muggers. My fist hit open air as the mugger side-stepped. I was forcefully reminded that my brother Jack usually rescued me from those schoolyard fights as the muggers pinned my arms behind my back.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Not so tough without the smoke and mirrors, are you Mr. Carter?"

I cringed at the voice. Clarence Abernethy sauntered down the alley, the streetlight at his back. Shadows covered the harsh features of his face like a mask, but a deep scar stretching from his forehead to his chin was still visible.

"Ah, Abernethy. Funny, I haven't seen you around. To what do I owe this appearance? Did you finally get tired of hiding behind the newspaper?"

One of Abernethy's goons slammed a fist into my side. My insides rattled, and I wheezed.

"Please, call me _Mr._ Abernethy." A poisonous smile settled on his face.

I smirked. "Aw, we're using honorific prefixes now. Unfortunately, I'm not in the mood to respect you."

I received another blow to the ribs. It was becoming hard to breathe.

"Let's be polite, now. It's _Mr. Abernethy_ , or nothing. Understand? Now, as for what I want, that's rather simple. I just have one question for you." _Mr._ Abernethy leaned closer to my face, his dark eyes a devoid of all sympathy. "Did you have any involvement with my father's death?"

An image of a shadow creature rising from the floor wearing a terrible grin came to my mind unbidden. My face hardened.

"What are you talking about?” I said. “You can't possibly think I had something to do with the accident."

"I agree, it seems absurd." Abernethy leaned away from me and laced his fingers behind his back. "But I was in the car the night it happened." He paced back and forth in the alley, his eyes lost in the memory. "I watched the cable car fly down the street. I felt it collide with our car, and I was awake to see my father take his last breath." Abernethy's flinty eyes turned to me, locking me in place. "On the cable car, I found a black residue, the likes of which I've only seen in your performances."

Silence fell in the alley.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said quietly, my mind grasping at straws for any way out of this. "Are you saying that the illusions from my magic show killed your father?"

At this, Abernethy's goons gave him curious looks. Abernethy stiffened, looking ruffled for the first time since entering the alley. I couldn't stop myself from making a satisfied smirk. Abernethy curled his lip, his face turning a shade of magenta.

All I saw was Abernethy moving forward before I felt a hand crack across my cheek. I grunted, my face stinging.

"Don't taunt me." His voice was a low growl. He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a vial full of a black inky substance. Abernethy shook the vial in front of my face. "Does _this_ look familiar?"

The substance appeared at first to be black ink, but upon closer inspection, the contents sloshed and bubbled inside the container, floaty and immaterial. There was no mistaking it—this was the same substance that came from the shadow creatures.

I was silent.

"I thought you would recognize it." Abernethy pulled back, his face unsmiling. "Y'know, ever since I met you, I've wanted to wipe that smug look off your face. It's a shame I don't have time to stick around to watch that happen. Boys, you know what to do." He snapped his fingers.

A ramming force hit my chest. I fell to the ground, feeling lightheaded. Abernethy's expensive shoes clacked away from me, and I wondered if that would be the last thing I would ever see. Without the Codex, my odds of winning this fight were about as slim as me being saved by the Queen of England.

"Hey, get away from him!" A voice called from the street. I didn't look up as a group of footsteps came toward us. There was a heavy _thunking_ sound, and one of the goons recoiled, clutching his nose.

"Monsieur Carter, is that you? What's going on here?" The voice was familiar, and when I looked up I recognized the powdered face and side-swept hair of Wes from the comedy trio.

"You two, get lost, or we'll call the police!" Helda made a fist and flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder. She looked surprisingly menacing in her witch costume. Abernethy's men eyed the situation, then ran out of the alley.

Jacques shook out his hand. "His jaw was harder than it looked." His attention went to me. "Are you alright Mr. Carter? We were walking home from the Halloween party and heard noise coming from this alley. We had no idea we'd find you here."

Wes grabbed my arm and pulled me into a sitting position. My head was spinning and threatening to make me sick.

"I've had better days." I clutched my head, feeling my sore cheek. "But all the same, thank you."

"Do you know them? They looked to be working with someone—I saw a car drive off." Helda gestured towards the open street where the goons had disappeared.

"Clarence Abernethy decided to pay me a visit." I spat blood onto the dirt and wiped my mouth. "I guess digging at me and Charlie in the newspaper wasn't enough for him."

Wes looked down, his eyebrows drawing together. Helda folded her arms, and Jacques looked away, suddenly interested in a nearby puddle.

"Um, we're familiar with Mr. Abernethy," said Jacques, rubbing his arm. "In fact, there's something you should know." Helda and Wes looked at Jacques with worried looks, but didn't interrupt him. "He offered us a substantial amount of money to..."

When Jacques couldn't finish, Helda stepped in. "Please don't think too ill of us. We needed the money."

"We agreed to help verify Monsieur Abernethy's claims to the newspaper. He wanted inside accounts to make his claims more believable, and we jumped at the reward. We regretted it immediately.”

"We didn't think about the consequences, especially for poor Miss Walters," said Helda softly. “We're so sorry.”

A moment of silence passed in the alley. I gave each member of the comedy team a hard stare, and they refused to meet my gaze. A coiled snake of rage hissed inside me, begging me to lash out at them.

_They were Charlie's friends. They knew us, and they traded us in for cash. And it's not like they're inexperienced with newspaper gossip, frequently being victims of such themselves._

But I held myself back. Despite how much I wanted to exact revenge, I was in their debt. They could've left me with Abernethy's goons, after all.

I breathed out, far from peaceful, but not livid. Charlie wouldn't hold a grudge, and especially not after a heartfelt apology. She wouldn't want me to hold a grudge either.

"I understand," I said. "As long as you make things right with Miss Walters... I'll forgive you."

The comedy trio perked up, looking as though an invisible weight had lifted from their shoulders.

"That's a relief to hear. Merci," Wes said. "Now, let's get you home so you can clean yourself up. I wish you luck explaining your appearance to Mademoiselle Walters."

I stood up and winced, partly because of my aching ribs, and partly because I had a feeling that if Charlie saw my injuries, there would be hell to pay.

 

 


	6. November - Head Over Heels

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL

()()()()()()()()

**ABERNETHY MANSION BURNS TO THE GROUND**

_Disaster strikes again in the Abernethy family. Not long after the passing of D. E. Abernethy, on Oct. 31st at around eleven o'clock PM, the Abernethy mansion up on Nob Hill caught fire._

_The staff managed to escape mostly unscathed, while the only heir to the Abernethy fortune, Clarence Abernethy, received second degree burns on his arms and legs. Despite these injuries, doctors report that he will make a full recovery. What will be harder to repair is his sanity. At the sight, authorities found Clarence Abernethy shouting hysterically. Most of his speech was unintelligible, except for the repeat of the phrase "shadows on the walls don't want me to tell"._

_Authorities have searched for the cause of the fire, but so far, no evidence has been found. Police suspect..._

I lowered the paper and stared at the oriental red rug beneath my feet. Resting my chin on my curled fist, I stared at ornate webbed pattern. The conversations of people as they passed by were a welcome distraction from my conflicting thoughts.

I wasn't about to complain about what happened to Abernethy-to be honest, the prick had it coming to him. But I knew how this particular tragedy happened. The shadows were stealthier this time, but it was obvious they were the culprits. Imagining the Shadows sneaking around the Abernethy mansion and making it catch fire with people still inside gave me a hollow feeling in my stomach.

"Hey there, Max," called a familiar chiming voice. I looked up and saw Charlie approach, a huge grin on her face and a rolled up poster in hand. She moved gracefully in her dark green dress, and when I met her eyes it was easy to forget the horror I'd been entertaining a few seconds ago.

"Good morning, Charlie. What do you have there?" I folded the paper and rested it on the table beside me.

"Oh, just a little something Mr. Pisum gave me. I met him on the street. He was eager to show me our newest poster." She pretended to inspect her gloved hand.

"Already? That's fantastic. Let's see it." Charlie handed me the poster.

I unrolled the curled paper.  _The Amazing Maxwell_ blared at me in large letters. Below was an illustration of our act, with Charlie and I standing side by side, the Codex in her hands and a shadow creature being summoned from its pages. The words  _performing feats to astound and mystify_ sat at the bottom.

I quirked a smile. "Perfect. I'm glad we can finally get rid of those old posters. It's kind of silly you haven't been in any of them yet."

"That's alright. I don't think it matters too much. They come to see  _you_ perform, after all."

I lowered the poster slowly. "Don't ever underestimate your importance, Charlie. This show wouldn't be the same without you."

Charlie sighed, rolling her eyes, then smiled at me. I returned it, forgetting to look away. When I realized I was staring, I looked down at the carpet and rubbed the back of my neck while my insides jumped around like a bag of grasshoppers.

"Anyway," I continued, "my birthday is tomorrow—"

"—what?" Charlie leaned in close, resting her hands on my armrests, her face only a few inches from mine. She forced an angry breath out of her nose, and I felt the warm air brush against my face. "Why am I finding this out now? That's not nearly enough time to plan a good party." She stood back and crossed her arms, pouting.

"Which is exactly why I didn't tell you before." This earned a  _tch_ from Charlie. "But I'm not keen on spending my birthday at the theater. So," I swallowed, feeling hot, "I was wondering if you'd like to do something with me, to celebrate."

Charlie's face lit up faster than a light bulb. She clasped her hands together in front of her pink lips. "Of course. Is that even a question? Let's go—oh, wait, where did you want to go? And when?" She was getting bouncy now, rocking from the balls of her heels and back again.

"Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at six," I said, trying not to laugh. "As for where, that's a surprise."

 

* * *

 

The water was frothy as the waves rolled in and broke against the jagged rocks on the shore. The bronze sun sat behind the clouds, shining like a spotlight on the calm ocean.

"I have to admit, this was a pretty good surprise, I've always wanted to see the Cliff House," Charlie said, propping her chin on her clasped hands as she appraised the view from her window. "Although, wasn't  _I_ the one who was supposed to surprise  _you_ _?_ It's your birthday, after all." She glanced at me. The light from the setting sun hit her eyes as she did so, making them more vibrant, as if the light was bouncing off the surface of a precious stone.

"Believe me, surprising you is much more satisfying," I said. "You should've seen your face on the train ride here."

The corner of her mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Can you blame me? I've seen pictures, but I wasn't prepared for  _this,"_ Charlie said, gesturing to everything around her. Orange light filled the room, filtering through the windows and coloring people's faces. People from all over San Francisco and beyond filled the restaurant, from the rich to poor, families and single adults, old and young. Beyond the restaurant were corridors to the museums, galleries, and as many attractions as one could fit in a seven-story building.

We both turned to look out the window, watching as the people dotting Ocean Beach milled about. Tiny children ran with the oncoming waves, running away from them and following them back.

"It's hard to imagine that there's a whole world out there, sometimes. I haven't traveled very much, but I wish I could. I want to see more of it." Her voice was wistful. Charlie rested her hand on the white tablecloth, a few inches from mine. Her hands were dainty, and I wasn't used to seeing them without gloves. It made me feel as though I should avert my eyes, but I reminded myself that there wasn't anything wrong with hands. Everyone had them. "Sometimes I forget that you came from England. What's it like, over there?"

"London was a lot like here, actually. At first glance, anyway. It was busy. Hundreds of people all with important business to get to, all the time. And it felt older. Here, it feels like everything was thrown together overnight. But over there, everything feels ancient. I don't really miss it, but I have a lot of good memories."

"I would love to see it someday. Baker Street would be fun to see," she said, brushing a piece of hair from her face.

"I'd love to take you. Big Ben is something to behold, and the Tower Bridge is impressive too. Jack and I used to watch ships pass through all the time..."

Charlie tilted her head. "Who's Jack?"

I winced. I hadn't meant to let that one slip. "Oh, that's.. um... my brother."

She blinked. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"Yeah, well, I don't interact with him very much—at least, not anymore," I said, tracing circles on the tablecloth.

"What happened?"

"Nothing too terrible. We were just going in different directions. He has his family in Corona, and I have this show in San Francisco." The half-truth made my insides feel unsettled.

"Oh. That's hard to imagine for me. I'm not sure how I'd cope without talking to my sister every once in a while."

"I'll be honest, I kind of miss him. Maybe I'll pay him a visit sometime."

Charlie smiled. "I'm sure he'd like that."

The sun dipped below the horizon, and the chandelier in the center of the dining room threw a golden light on everything, from the white covered tables to the guests dressed in fine apparel. The chatter filling the room was a sea of intelligible murmurs, mixed with the clinking of plates.

"It looks like it's getting late," I said. "There's a lot to see, and not a lot of time. You should pick what we do next."

"I've been eyeing the beach ever since we got here. It's late now, but would you still care to see it?" She said.

"Absolutely," I replied, smirking."I'll protect you from any creepy crawlies."

Charlie wrinkled her nose and grinned. "Creepy crawlies? Do you mean crabs?"

"Disgusting little monsters." I made a face. Charlie giggled.

The light had faded quickly, and the entryway was illuminated by leftover light from the hall. As we made our way outside, I was aware of Charlie's delicate arm in mine and little else.

The road was dark. The beach was the most visible thing in the landscape, the window lights from the Cliff House lighting up the water and reflecting off the wet sand.

"There it is. Let's go!" Charlie said, gathering her skirts and sprinting down the road that ran adjacent to the beach. With her hand linked with mine, I struggled to stay with her, her quick pace taking me by surprise.

"What's the rush?"

"Having a problem keeping up?" She flashed me a smile.

I mirrored her grin. "Hardly."

The distance to the stairs that led to the beach was a short one, and soon Charlie and I were neck and neck. She kept up well, considering my legs were twice the length of hers. When we came to the stairs, I skipped steps to keep up with her rapid fire pace. My feet touched the uneven cusp at the bottom, and I stumbled, my shoes squishing and collecting particles of sand.

"Ha..." Charlie pushed my arm, gasping in-between laughs. "I win." She untied the laces on her boots.

"What? That was obviously a tie." She handed me her limp boots, and I placed them on the steps.

Charlie didn't seem to hear me. "Oh, wow," she breathed, taking a few steps towards the ocean.

The last of the sun's light had faded, and the full moon was just beginning to rise behind us, casting a silvery light on the water and sand. The dark waves glinted at us. Stars were beginning to come out, and if I looked hard enough I could see hints of the arm of the Milky Way, like a fuzzy cloud across the sky.

I came up behind Charlie and watched with her as the waves gently tumbled in and out, the white water smoothing over the beach. A gentle breeze pushed past us, bringing with it the unique scent of salt and brine.

Charlie walked closer to the waves until the edge of the water licked her toes. I stood there with her for a while, breathing in the sharp night air and savoring the feeling of warmed limbs.

"Thank you for taking me here," Charlie said. "The city is nice, but nothing beats nature."

"I know what you mean. I wish we could escape more often."

Charlie sat down, her feet resting where the waves soaked the sand. I sat down next to her, tucking my legs in.

"My family has a cabin up in British Colombia," Charlie said. "There's no one for miles, and untamed woods as far as the eye can see. I think you'd like it there." She dug her toes into the sand. The water washed over them and smoothed the slate.

"Sounds like paradise." We were silent for a while, listening to the waves.

"Do you know any constellations?" Charlie asked.

"Constellations? I'm no expert, but I know a few. I'm sure you already know the Big Dipper?"

"Yep. It's right up there." Charlie pointed to the familiar rectangle of stars.

"The edges of the dipping part point to the North star. On the other side of the North star, there's a group of bright stars that form a W. That's Cassiopeia, the queen."

Charlie tilted her head. "I see the W, but I don't know about a queen."

"I think she's supposed to be on a chair, which explains that bent part. Chained to her throne, or something, but I don't remember why. Other than that, I don't know any constellations. Well, I know Orion, but he won't be out for a few months."

The wind pushed the distant clouds across the sky. I frowned, then snuck a glance at Charlie. The breeze was tousling the piece of hair on her forehead that always resisted being pinned into a hairstyle, and her breathing was slow, as if she was trying to commit to memory the smell of the ocean.

The words I kept myself from saying on Halloween were now itching to get out. I looked away from her. I had no idea if now was the right time or not—it was still possible that the rumors could escalate again. But... I could still ask. I could ask if she thought of me that way, and if it would even be possible for something like that to work out between us. No declarations. Just two adults having a conversation.

"Charlie,"

"Yes?" Charlie turned her full attention towards me.

"I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Okay," she said softly, looking closely at my face and trying to decipher my agitated demeanor.

"I... " I got lost in her eyes, making what I was going to say a hundred times harder. I felt her hand on my arm, and I turned to face her again. "Charlie, I-"

I was interrupted by Charlie grabbing my face and pressing her mouth against mine. My face lit on fire, and my heart rate took off like a spooked horse. I didn't move. All I could think about was the smell of vanilla and the way our noses bumped together.

When we broke apart, I took in a shaky breath, my head spinning. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to focus my thoughts. I was flying. Soaring—the kind of elated that makes the darkness retreat with its tail between its legs.

"I..."

"S-sorry Max. I just... I shouldn't have..." Charlie turned away from me,

"No, wait, hang on a second." I grabbed her hand and she didn't recoil. Instead, her eyes slid to the ground, where particles of sand were blowing in the wind. "Let's talk about this."

"Oh no, Max, I'm sorry. I just had a feeling I knew what you were going to say. I'm sorry if you don't feel the same way, it's just... I've felt like this way for a while now. I was just too scared to tell you. Especially since the whole fiasco with the newspaper."

I put a hand on her warm cheek. "Charlie, look at me." Her glassy eyes met mine, and my heart beat increased its tempo. "You were absolutely right. What I was about to ask you—well, I wanted to know if you thought a relationship would ever work with us. I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, but I've been holding back for the same reasons. And to find out you feel the same way... I can barely believe it."

Charlie's eyes widened. She smiled, then fell into relieved laugh. But then the laugh faded, and concern returned to the forefront of her mind. "But can this work? What would happen to your show if the rumors had more to feed on?"

I got on my knees and turned to face her directly, resting both my hands on her shoulders.

"Charlie, remember what you said that day, after I asked if you wanted to resign? We've come too far for headlines to get in our way. Who cares what they think? We've gone this long without their approval." She gave a small smile. "And I'll protect you, no matter what happens."

Charlie's gaze lingered, her eyes vulnerable and searching. Her hand lifted without warning, her fingertips trailing my cheek and leaving the skin more alive than she left it. She stopped and rested her hand at the corner of my mouth.

"I... I want to make this work," she said. "But... we should be cautious. We'll take it slow and see what happens. How does that sound?"

I placed my hand over hers, warming her colder fingers.

"Sounds like a plan."

She grinned, then lunged forward, tackling me in a hug and squeezing me as tight as her tiny arms would allow.

I struggled to stay upright and laughed, wrapping one arm around her small frame and drinking in the scent of vanilla and something else... some kind of spice. The smell reminded me of home, and rainy days spent inside with hot cocoa.

For once, the shadows, Abernethy, the newspapers—all of it was pushed from my mind. All that mattered was the two of us, the only warmth on the cold beach. I wanted to stay like that forever.

 

* * *

 

I opened the door to my study and found a letter sitting on the floor. On the front was written  _To Max_ in Charlie's looping handwriting. She probably slipped it under the door just few hours prior, just before she left to her sister's house for Thanksgiving.

I scooped it up and turned on the lamp at my desk, unfolding the message.

_Hey Maxy,_

_We really knocked 'em dead last night, didn't we? I thought that old guy in the front wasn't going to make it. Those shadow things are so convincing—they almost scare me, and I'm a part of the act!_

_We can work on the new finale when I get back from my sister's place. I'm looking forward to it!_

_\- Charlie_

At the end, she left a heart. A small smile tugged at my lips.

It had been a week since my birthday, and I was still feeling light headed. Another show had come and gone, and with Thanksgiving coming up, Charlie's family had insisted on her attendance at family dinner. She had offered for me to come with her, but I sensed that she needed some time away from me with her family, to sort out her thoughts. Besides, it wasn't like Thanksgiving meant anything to me and my English roots anyway.

I folded the letter, then walked over to the fireplace and tugged the candle on the mantle. The secret door swung open, and I ducked through the passageway. I turned on the light, then dug through my desk drawers for a jar of pins. I tacked Charlie's letter to the wall, where it hung beside the new poster and other papers I thought would be important to document. Several notes from the Codex lined the walls, as well as the newspaper advertisement form I had to scrap because I accidentally wrote my real name at the bottom in pen.

I grabbed my journal from the pile of books. The corners were worn, and the middle was puffed up from use and papers I glued to the pages.

I flipped through the pages, and on my way to the newest one, I spotted the postcard I had written months ago for Jack. The address scribbled out. It was strange—sometimes I forgot that Jack didn't know I was alive. While I considered telling him that the train crash hadn't killed me, I decided against it when I made my deal with the shadows. Whatever sort of arcane dark magic I got into, I didn't want Jack and his family to be a part of it. The less he knew, the better.

I reached a clean page and wrote:

__**November 19th, 1905** _ _

__**The shadows have been quiet since the Abernethy mansion burned to the ground. The fact that they attacked someone without my knowledge disturbs me, even if Clarence Abernethy was the victim.** _ _

__**I haven't kept the Codex on my person in a while. Every time I use it, I don't feel like myself. Pounding headaches attack me during practice, and my vision tends to blur after extended use. I'm trying to keep these symptoms hidden from Charlie. I'm afraid she will notice that something is wrong, and I won't have a good explanation. It hasn't been a problem until recently.** _ _

__**I now feel apprehensive before entering darkly lit rooms, and I always feel as though I'm being watched. I believe the shadows are to blame. I still don't know what their true goal is, but I have a feeling that they're preparing for something, like a lion readying to pounce.** _ _


	7. December - Calm Before the Storm

My footsteps squished, and I held my coat tight. The brim of my hat was the only thing protecting my face from the rain; water poured off of its edge like a waterfall.

_I should've brought an umbrella—I'm soaking wet. I sighed. This is bound to make a_ great  _first impression._

I turned a corner, the soup-colored vertical houses looking like nothing more than rearrangements of each other. The only true difference between each house were the plants kept in the front garden. Some had sparse gardens, while others looked as if they had tried to fit the entire country of Brazil in an acre.

At the end of the street, just before the brown house with iron gates, was a white house with a neatly trimmed lawn, just as Charlie had described.

I climbed the cracked wooden steps that wheezed under my weight and stopped before the double doors. I could see figures moving from behind the door's glass panels, nothing more than blurry shadows shifting in golden light. Something behind the door popped, and there was a cheer from several people. I drew in a deep breath and rapped on the door.

Only a moment had gone by before Charlie pulled the door open, a broad smile painting her face. I stood there in the rain for a moment, at a loss for words. She was dressed in a flowing, dark blue dress, and a red rose was pinned to her hair, like the kind she typically wore for shows. The red brought out the deeper ocher tones in her eyes, and her bright smile brought sunshine to the rainy street.

"Hi Max! Oh wow, you look soaked. Come in, before the storm washes you away." She grabbed my arm, pulling me in.

"It's good to see you too, Charlie." I half-laughed as I stepped through the threshold, then hung my coat on the coat rack. I almost felt bad for the rack, which was holding coats of every species, from fuzzy pink jackets to no-nonsense gray overcoats. I rearranged them as best I could, trying to avoid getting any wet, which was nigh impossible, and slipped my hat next to a small felt one on top.

I turned towards Charlie, and there was a moment of pause where she simply looked at me, several thoughts seeming to pass behind her eyes."You've come just in time," she said, taking my arm and pulling me down the hall. At her touch, all my senses felt ten times more awake. "My dad got here only a few minutes before you did. He's anxious to meet you." Charlie guided me down the hall and around a corner, where I could hear the mumble of multiple conversations. I couldn't hear any individual words, and somewhere a dog was barking.

"He's anxious to meet me, huh? Have you told him much about me?" My insides felt tangled, like a bag of shoelaces.

"I've told him great things about you. Don't worry, he's gonna love you."

Despite her warm reassurance, Charlie felt twitchy in my arm as we came to an open entryway. We paused before going in. She pushed the hair out of her face, and I placed a steadying free hand on her arm. Charlie's smile was a side glance, like the kind she did just before we would make an entrance on stage.

As soon as we entered, the change in the atmosphere was immediate. It was as though all conversation had slammed into a wall. The room was crowded with people who were all paused with what they were doing: an elderly woman in a pale pink dress and pearls had her mouth hanging open in mid-conversation with a man who had paused in drinking his champagne; a bit of it dribbled down his chin as he stared.

A group of children in front of us were huddled around a dog with a piece of string dangled over it. The dog pulled at the string, curious why the children had stopped playing. They squinted at me with a mixture of suspicion and wonder, as if I myself were a magic act they were skeptical to believe.

"Everyone, this is my good friend, Mr. Carter. I hope you'll make him feel at home," said Charlie, her voice seeming extra loud in the stillness.

After a beat, the spell lifted. Continuing on as if nothing had happened, the mumble of conversation grew into a comfortable drone. However, the children still regarded me with narrow eyes.

A man with black hair parted down the middle and a well-kept mustache approached. With a tense smile, he held out his hand to shake.

"Mr. Carter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." I shook his hand, which he gripped tightly. "I'm Charlie's father. We've heard a lot about you and your work." From his face, I couldn't tell whether the things he'd heard about me were good or bad. Charlie watched the proceeds intently, the smile on her face becoming rigid.

"It's good to meet you too, Mr. Walters. Your daughter has been a wonderful to have in my show. I'm lucky she chose to work with me." I shared a glance with Charlie, and she relaxed her smile somewhat.

"Yes, I hear you two are close." His eyes flickered to the tiny space between us.

"Charlie!" a familiar voice called sharply from across the room. "How dare you not introduce me to your sweetheart before now?" A woman rushed over to us, her raspberry colored dress swishing as she approached.

"Sweetheart?" Mr. Walters echoed, looking stiff.

She stopped in front of us and crossed her arms, a thoughtful twist on her mouth as she looked me up and down.

She had the same upturned nose as Charlie, but she was taller, her face was thinner, and auburn hair sat in her intricate hairstyle instead of black.

"I'm sorry you two haven't been introduced yet," Charlie said, "but it's kind of hard when we live so far apart. You only came to visit me once, y'know."

"Nothing but excuses," Charlie's sister said.

Charlie sighed.

"You must be Miranda," I gave a slight bow. "I've been wanting to meet you for a while now."

"And you must be Mr. Carter, or Maxy, according to Charlie's letters." She gave Charlie a sly smile.

Charlie's face went pink, and her father's face turned pinker, becoming the shade of Miranda's dress.

"Um, you'll have to excuse me," he said. "Aunt Margaret is trying to catch my attention." He slipped away, heading in the direction of who I assumed was Aunt Margaret, but she appeared to be absorbed in a conversation.

Charlie watched him leave, then lowered her head and frowned at her shoes. Miranda pursed her lips.

"He was just getting used to the whole  _stage assistant_ idea, and now you've come to dinner with this fella on your arm..." Miranda shook her head, smiling. "It's too much to handle for him in such a short time. I wouldn't worry, though. He's bound to warm up to all this eventually."

"I just wish he wasn't so stubborn. He has this idea in his head about how I should be, and whenever I stray from that, he acts like..." Charlie raised her hands with exasperation, then folded them. She turned her gaze to a couple dressed in moth-bitten clothes, probably an aunt and uncle, who were sharing a drink and laughing. "I just wanted more out of life, that's all. Dressmaking never appealed to me, and now I can provide all of us income in my own way. He should just be happy for me."

I had a feeling that I just stumbled into a conflict spanning years. The most I knew was that Charlie's father was a dressmaker, as well as her sister. I wasn't sure how well they were doing, since dressmakers were being put out of business by large department stores, but I guessed by Charlie's conversation, her revenue was one of their main incomes.

"Charlie, you can't let him get to you." Miranda came closer and put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. Charlie didn't look at her.

"Easy for you to say," she whispered under her breath, "he's never had a problem with  _you_."

Miranda's gaze flickered to the floor, looking as though she was formulating a response in her head.

"I know Dad can be stiff, but he has your best interests at heart. He just wants you to be happy. So show him how happy you are." Charlie sighed, then looked up at Miranda. After a moment, her shoulders relaxed. "I have to go check on how dinner's coming," Miranda said, "but I'll talk with you later. Oh, and Mr. Carter," she turned to me, "despite what my family may say, I think you're good for Charlie. She's the sort that needs a bit of adventure." Miranda winked, then brushed past Charlie and went out into the hall.

I leaned down so that only Charlie could hear me. "Don't worry Charlie. Your father doesn't stand a chance against my charm."

Charlie took a peek at me, and I flashed her a winning smile. She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help a little snort from sneaking out.

"Yeah, I'm sorry that he acted a little stiff. But I have to admit, that went better than expected."

I widened my eyes. "What  _were_  you expecting?"

"Oh, just him telling you to get lost and disowning me. He's never approved of my job, and now that I'm bringing  _you_ along... well, I was expecting the worst case scenario." Charlie waved her hand nonchalantly. "What matters is Miranda approves, both of my job and you. Her opinion is the only one I care about."

The sound of someone clinking a fork against a glass sent a hush over the room. Everyone turned to the entryway look at an older man sporting a pointed white beard and a gray suit. He squinted at us through his circular glasses.

"Everyone," he rasped, "I've come to tell you that Christmas dinner is ready."

"All right!" said one of the boys in the group. Dropping the ribbon he was using to tease the dog, he bolted towards the dining room, pushing the older man out of the way. Several other children followed in his wake, each one shouting for him to wait up. After a moment of confusion, the mop brush of a dog followed as well.

The older man stepped away from the entryway and put a hand to his chest, breathing hard and shaking his head. A few people chuckled.

Charlie laughed along with them. "Oh, by the way, that's my grandfather," she said, weaving her arm with mine. The crowd started to disperse, Mr. Walters among them. He glanced at us with narrowed eyes. I pretended to not see him.

"All this fun is starting to take its toll on me," Charlie's grandfather mumbled behind us in the hall. "I'm not sure how many times I can survive being mowed over by Gregory and his goons."

Charlie suppressed a smile.

We took a left, and light spilled into the hallway. As we stepped into the room, the smell of sugared ham blew over me, and I felt a twinge of nostalgia. Back home, we had something similar for Christmas.

Back then, my family lived in a terrace, with barely any room for a table. The situation here wasn't much different. A long wooden table filled most of the room, which was covered with all your typical holiday foods, from mashed potatoes to honeyed ham.

I side-stepped to a place at the table, seated Charlie to my left, then sat down next to her. Charlie's father sat down across from us, all the while his gaze drilling a hole into me. I gave a small sigh of relief when Miranda took the seat to my right.

After grace was said, the food circulated around the table. Once the food was settled and silverware was clacking against plates, the conversation began in earnest.

"So, I don't know very much about show business," Mr. Walters said, his attention focused on his ham. It looked as though he was talking to it as he sliced it apart. "Is it lucrative? I can't imagine it being a very stable profession."

_I should say it's stable, considering I've been providing most of your income._

"Quite. Our shows are always packed. We've had people from all over the country attend," I replied, stirring my mashed potatoes. Several family members sat forward in their seats.

"How did you get started in that?"

"Well, ever since I was a child, I've wanted to be a magician. I came over from England, then moved to California to be closer to my brother. The Orpheum recruiters saw my vaudeville performance, and they liked what I did, so they asked me to join them."

"You're an immigrant? That's funny. I never would've guessed from your accent." He sounded as if he was tasting the word  _immigrant_ like a foreign food, and he wasn't sure he liked the taste.

"I get that a lot."

His eyes narrowed. He jabbed a fork at his ham, his eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

A man who I assumed was Charlie's uncle was seated next to her father. His hair was wispy, and his orange bow tie hurt to look at. He had been listening intently on the conversation, chewing his ham like a cow, and saw this as his opportunity to butt in.

"I heard the newspapers were giving you two a hard time a while back. Miranda assured me the rumors weren't true—everyone knows that journalists blow things out of proportion—but I imagine things must have been hard for a while. Are people still making a fuss in San Francisco?"

"Rumors?" Charlie's father's voice was soft, but his face couldn't have been harder. He looked at Charlie for an explanation.

The uncle's mouth popped open. He looked down, suddenly very interested in his peas.

Charlie froze in lifting her fork to her mouth, and I tightened my hand into a fist under the table. It hadn't crossed my mind that Mr. Walters had never heard about the brief newspaper drama.

Miranda stared at her food, silent. My guess was she had kept it away from him, in fear of this exact reaction.

"Oh, um," Charlie said, "it's nothing. The journalists take a jab at everyone at the Orpheum. Everyone gets a turn. Not a lot happens, I suppose, so they create drama where isn't any."

"What did they say, exactly?"

"Well..." Charlie looked off to the side, placing her pointer fingers together in a triangle.

"Oh, are you talking about that gossip story with Charlie?" a woman with a sagging face spoke up next to the uncle. Her sleepy eyes glanced at Miranda, who was stabbing her ham harder than necessary with her fork. "Well," she continued when no one answered, "it hinted that those two had a...  _certain_ kind of relationship, if you get my meaning."

Someone's knife clattered to their plate, and Mr. Walters choked on his green beans.

"Matilda, you old bat..." Charlie muttered under her breath.

The entire room stopped whatever they were doing and watched as Mr. Walters swallowed and slowly curled his fist around his butter knife. He locked eyes with me.

"I had no idea such rumors were circulating." His tone was calm, but I could tell that something in him was rising, like Mt. Vesuvius about to blow. "Charlie, if this job of yours is hurting your reputation, are you sure that keeping it is the best idea?"

Charlie clasped her hands and looked her father squarely in the eye. "Yes, I am."

If there was ever any doubt that Charlie wouldn't stick with me, it evaporated when I saw her stand firm against the look her father gave her. Everyone at the table turned and stared. Her father's face was calculating as he sat back in his chair.

It was so quiet you could hear the dog's muffled barking from the other room.

"What did you say?" His voice was measured.

"I said I won't give this up. Those reporters can say what they like, but I'm happy with what I'm doing, and I'm not going anywhere." She folded her arms.

His mustache twitched. "We'll discuss this later," he said quietly.

"I plan to," Charlie said.

I looked down at my glass of champagne, the the bubbles floating to the surface. A few moments of awkward silence passed before the clacking of silverware and conversation continued. Mr. Walters refused to look up, giving his buttered roll a stare as if it had said something nasty about him. Miranda flashed Charlie a thumbs-up under the table. Charlie gave a careful smile.

When Miranda looked away, Charlie went to strangling the napkin on her lap. As subtly as I could, I reached over and placed a hand over hers. She stopped twisting her napkin, and without looking at me, threaded her hand with mine.

 

* * *

 

Behind the oak door that led to the study, a muffled conversation was drawing to a close. I lost track of how long they talked. Most of it was gibberish, but words like  _reputation_ and  _money_ stood out to me.

Their voices tapered off, then came to a standstill. The oak doors opened a crack, and Charlie slipped through them, a small smile on her face.

She noticed me standing by the door and widened her eyes, opening her mouth to say something, then thinking better of it.

"How did it go?" I asked.

She nodded towards the parlor, and I followed.

"Was he furious?" I spotted the parlor couch and pulled her towards it.

"Actually," Charlie said, sitting down, "that could have been a lot worse. Best case scenario, really. I've been looking for a chance to talk to him about this." She picked at the fraying edges of the armrest, running the loose threads through her fingers.

"So he sees your point of view?"

Her mouth quirked up in a smile, sharing a fleeting glance with me before she turned away.

"Yes, I think he's starting to."

The sound of giggling made me turn my head, and I managed to catch a glimpse of a few of the children poking their heads in to look at us. They whispered together outside in the hall, their voices becoming more and more heated until one of them was pushed into the room by several tiny hands.

The victim was one of the boys that had been playing with the dog earlier. He ran a hand through his strawberry-blonde hair and walked up to us, sending a grimace towards the hallway. He eyed me with folded arms, a pout on his face.

"So, you're a real magician?"

"That's the idea," I said.

"Well, if you're a real magician, then would you mind showing us your magic?" Some of the children poked their heads into the room. A girl with blonde ringlets watched us with wide eyes, and a younger boy, probably her brother, sucked his thumb while holding her hand.

I gave Charlie a sideways glance, and she nodded. Digging into my coat pocket, I brought out a box of playing cards, twirling it on my pointer finger and catching it back in my hand. At the sight of the cards, Charlie grinned.

"Ever seen a magician play with cards?"

"No, I guess not," the boy answered, tilting his head to get a better look at the box.

"Well, you're about to."

I stood up and offered my hand to Charlie, which she took. We moved to an open spot in the room, facing the couch where the boy and a few of his cousins had gathered.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Charlie said, "I give you the Amazing Maxwell." She opened her arms in a grand gesture.

She went to the beat up piano in the corner of the room as sat down. After a deep breath, she began a trill and fell into a lively tune. The piano's notes were golden, despite its rough exterior. Charlie glanced at me, pausing in the music and waiting for my cue.

I began by tossing the card box from behind me. It sailed over my shoulder, and I caught it in my open hand. Then I emptied the deck, the cards gliding into my palm. Her music followed behind me, racing up and down a scale.

I spread the deck out into a fan shape with my fingers, then took one card from the deck. I tossed it into the air and the card spun. Opening a place for it in my fan, it landed lightly, like an acrobat on a tightrope just after a flip.

The girl with blonde ringlets gasped, and I smirked at her.

I slapped the deck together again, then grabbed the outside edges of the rectangles. The hard edges biting into my fingers. Pulling my hands wide apart, the cards followed, creating a waterfall of vertically falling cards. Just before I ran out of cards, I slapped my hands together again like alligator jaws. Charlie pounded out a chord to match the clap.

A few other kids poked their heads in from the hallway. Charlie motioned to come in, and several of them complied, pouring in and filling the couch as well as the ground around it. Except for a few whispers, they were silent and watching my every move.

A couple of adults stood outside the hallway, pretending to chat but glancing at us with interest. I was aware of their eyes on me as my fingers moved, making the cards look like a shifting kaleidoscope of colored diamonds. My hands seemed to move in random patterns, but I always knew where I was slicing the deck, where I was pulling it apart, and how my fingers could put it together again in the most flamboyant way possible.

I gathered the cards together, then bent them, shooting them down into my other hand. Once the deck had settled, I bent them again, this time forcing the deck to defy gravity and shoot back up to gather in my palm. A few of the adults clapped.

I selected one card and sent it spinning on my middle finger, then flipped my hand over so that it rested on the back of my hand. I slipped it back onto the top of the deck.

_Time for the finale._

I met Charlie's eyes, trying not to look obvious to the audience as I gave her a cue in the form of a wink. She gave a slight nod, then played something more intense, signaling the end. I spread the deck out on my forearm, then titled my arm up and flicked my fingers so that the deck reversed like a wave. I slid a hand down my arm, gathering the deck again.

Then I went to work making a complicated structure using only one hand to hold it in place. First came the card fans, and then another layer, and before you could say  _abracadabra_ , I held a tower formation. I pulled one card from the formation and placed it flat on top and spun it, like the finishing cherry on a sundae. Charlie rolled into a crescendo, then gave a ringing chord.

The room cheered, and I looked up from my configuration. The couch sagged under the weight of nearly all the children, some sitting on the laps of others. Adults filled the empty spaces of the room and poured out into the hall; I recognized Charlie's grandfather among them, a twinkle in his fleece-colored eyes, as well as Miranda standing in the doorway, a radiant smile on her face.

I compressed the construct within seconds and pushed the cards into their box, tucking them into my back pocket.

Sneaking a glance at Charlie, I found that she had moved closer and was now only a few inches from me. She placed a hand on my back and held one hand in the air, presenting me for a final time.

"Ladies and gentleman, thank you for attending. And as always, have a good night."

We took a bow as everyone erupted into applause, and when I came out of it I spotted Charlie's father among the group in the hall. He had been watching from just outside, and he stared at us with something wistful in his eyes, as if he was looking for something he'd lost.

Without warning, a swarm of miniature hands attacked me, tugging at my jacket and asking for my attention.

"Can you show me how to do that?"

"That wasn't real magic—"

"—those were the best tricks I've ever seen!"

"Do you know any other tricks?"

I pulled my arms away to keep the kids from grabbing them and looked to Charlie for help. She lifted her hands up in defeat and gave me a coy smile. I sighed and looked at my new fans.

"Sorry kids, that's all for now. Maybe if I visit again I'll show you more."

A few of them let out whines and pleaded for an encore, but when their parents called them back, they let go of me and walked away, all the while shooting me sour glances. I felt a smile tug at the corner of my mouth.

Mr. Walters replaced them, grinning at the sight of the kids through his mustache, despite himself. When he looked at me, his smile became unsure. He changed his focus to Charlie.

"Charlie, if it's all right, I'd like to speak with Mr. Carter. I won't steal him away from you for too long."

My glance at Charlie was brief. Her eyes were questioning and hopeful. We both gave Mr. Walters a nod.

"I'd be happy to speak with you. I have a feeling there's a lot we need to discuss," I said.

I followed him out into the hall, and we took the turn to his study. When the wooden doors shut with a heavy  _clack_ , Mr. Walters turned to me with a hard expression.

"I'll make this brief." With his hands behind his back, Mr. Walters walked to his desk and sat in the cushioned leather chair. Propping his elbows on the scratched mahogany surface, he leaned towards me. "Please, have a seat." He gestured towards the chair in front of me.

I watched Mr. Walters closely as I sat in the chair, sinking into the brown leather. Our eyes were locked the entire time, neither one of us wanting to be the first to look away.

Mr. Walters leaned across the desk with his palms spread across the dark finish. His eyes, the same brown as Charlie's, were inches from mine.

"I know you and my daughter are close. So I just want to make one thing clear," he said, his voice low and calm, "if you hurt her, I will find you and make you regret it."

I paused.  _Well, he didn't waste any time._ "Mr. Walters, I have no intention of hurting Charlie."

Mr. Walters sat back down and propped his chin on his clasped hands. He looked at me for a moment.

"Do you love her?"

"I... I do. I have for a long time now. Believe me when I say, I would do anything to protect her from harm."

Mr. Walters puckered his mouth, then grabbed a miniature globe sitting on his desk. He turned it absently with one finger. "Charlie told me that you defended her from a young man who was manipulating her. Is this true?"

I drew my eyebrows together. "Yes."

Mr. Walters sighed.

"Well, thank you. I can't deny what Charlie said; you seem to have her best interests at heart. She's always wanted to do something with her gifts, and you've given her that opportunity. I can tell you make each other happy, and the way that you look at her, and the way she looks at you... well, all I can say is it was remarkably lucky that you found each other. If she thinks that highly of you... well, I trust her." The lines around his eyes crinkled as he smiled, and for a moment, I could see a striking resemblance between Charlie and her father.

"I... I don't know what to say." I looked down at the carpet, taken aback. "Thank you for trusting me. I'll try to deserve it."

 

* * *

 

The crackling hearth and the rain tapping the window were the only sounds in the room. The house had dimmed considerably since everyone had left; I could see lights from the other houses just outside the parlor window, but everything else was blackness.

I touched the velvety black box in my hand and tugged at its red ribbon, making sure it was tight.

From down the hall, I could hear footsteps squeaking against the wood. I hid the box from view just as Charlie poked her head into the room, her loose hair spilling over her shoulder like black silk.

"Alright, I'm back," she said, walking into the room and sitting next to me on the couch. "Aunt Matilda finally left, so now it's just you, me, and my family somewhere upstairs. Miranda's putting her kids to bed, and my father said we're welcome to stay for as long as we want."

"Oh, good. I'm not in a hurry to go anywhere; the storm just picked up."

As if to reaffirm my comment, thunder bellowed outside. Charlie tensed at the sound, and she scooted closer to me, pushing the overcoat I'd abandoned on the headrest out of the way.

I inched towards her, leaving only a few millimeters between us. The familiar scent of vanilla washed over me, and I couldn't help breathing deeply.

"I got you a present," I said. " I hope you don't mind. I know you said you didn't want anything, but I couldn't resist. Happy Christmas."

Charlie's eyes widened when I handed her the box, and she looked up at me, then back at the present. With careful precision, she pulled the ribbon free and lifted the lid. Her lips parted when she saw what was inside.

She held it up, the petals of a rose glowing softly in the firelight.

"It's the rose you wore in our last show, but with a few modifications. I think you'll find that it will outlive most other roses."

Charlie turned the rose in her hand, admiring the lush red contrasted with bright green. The petals were dewy, as if it were plucked straight from the garden. It no longer had thorns—just a soft stem.

"I can't believe it's the same rose. I thought it died weeks ago."

"I have a way with flowers," I said, taking the rose from her hand and tucking it behind her ear. The red made the warm undertones in her eyes come alive. "It reminded me of when we first started working together. I thought it would be fitting."

I had been experimenting on flowers all month, and my last attempt had been on her show rose. It was true, the rose would outlive any other, and that was because it was linked to Charlie's well-being. It was an indicator of sorts—as long as she was healthy and thriving, so would the rose. I figured I could wear one of the prototype roses to match during our shows. Right now, her rose was glowing with vitality.

Charlie touched the rose with her fingertips and smiled at me, her eyes shining.

"Thank you. I have a present for you too, but first I want to talk."

She took my hands in hers and looked at our overlapping palms. Closing her eyes, she took in a breath.

"I've thought a lot about what I said on the beach." Charlie moved her thumb across the back of my hand, leaving it more alive than the rest of me. "These past few months, though they weren't without hardship, have been some of the happiest of my life. And I..." She stopped and looked up. "And I don't think we have to take things slow anymore. If you want, that is."

I couldn't stop myself from leaning closer, from coming only a breath away from her face. Charlie sucked in a breath.

I placed a hand on her jawline, gently, as if to ask  _is this okay?_

Her hands went to my face, her warm palms sliding and coming to rest on the back of my neck. Her breath tickled my face.

The distance collapsed between us. Her lips, normally soft-looking, were hard against mine. My hands went to her hair and I ran my fingers through the soft ebony strands.

What was spilling over now was something that had been building ever since I met her, and now it all came bleeding through. Our first kiss was a surprise, accidental and a little awkward. This was something else. We broke away for a half a second, her warm breath mingling with mine. I moved a hand across her cheek, gently, as if her skin was made of glass.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered. This seemed to surprise her, and she blinked her dark lashes at me.

This time, Charlie held my face in her hands and leaned in slowly, pressing her mouth against mine and moving her hands to the back of my neck. This kiss was more thorough, and felt as if it was made to last forever.

As I felt Charlie's heart beat, a rapid-fire pace against mine, all of the trouble from the past few months slipped away. Charlie was here with me, and that was all that mattered.


	8. January - For Your Sake

The stars were just beginning to peek into existence as the sun set in front of us. The sun's light made the buildings of San Francisco shimmer. In the distance, I could barely make out the ocean, which reflected so much light it was hard to look at.

Charlie sighed next to me. I glanced at her. She was slumped against my arm, her legs tucked under her on the small quilt we sneaked to the Orpheum's roof. She was taking in the landscape as if it was an old family photograph she'd found while cleaning the attic.

She noticed me looking at her and matched my gaze. A sweet smile settled on her face. I reached a hand towards her cheek, but before I could touch her, her smile stiffened.

"Charlie?"

She looked down, her smile turning into a fierce grimace, almost as if she was in pain. Baring her teeth, she looked up at me and I recoiled.

Her warm brown eyes had turned into a bottomless black, and her mouth was frozen in a smile that would be painful to hold for any human face. Standing up, I backed away from her.

"Charlie, what's wrong?"

She titled her head, all the while keeping her eerie white smile.

A message echoed across the roof, garbled and sounding as if an entire crowd of people was trying to speak at once.  
 _  
_ _"Come. You belong to us."_ __  
  
"What? Come where?"

Charlie stood up, her movements jerky, as if she was a doll that giant invisible hands were manipulating. She held out a hand towards me.

_"Come. You belong to us."_

"Charlie, what are you doing? Snap out of it!"

She turned towards the roof's ledge and started walking. Although her movements were stiff, she made steady progress towards the lip. My stomach flipped, threatening to make me sick.

I darted towards her, but it felt as if the distance between us was stretching. Why was she so far away?

Charlie placed one foot on the ledge, then another. She looked small there against the orange sky—small and breakable.

_"Come. You belong to us."_

"Charlie!"

I reached out as she fell forward, and my fingers clasped around nothing. Her white dress billowed like a silk curtain as she fell. The cold from the stone beneath me bit into my skin—it was all I could think about as I stared at my empty palms, my ears ringing.

I gasped and sat up, completely disoriented as I looked around my room, the silhouettes of the books piled on my furniture suddenly looking alien and hostile.

"Umbrae recedere, lumino!"

The lamp at my beside table flared to life, filling the room with a white glow. The light bulb hummed with energy, then died as soon as my attention drifted.

I sucked in a few breaths, trying to get a hold of my panicked heartbeat. I ran a hand across my forehead, and it came back wet.

_Breathe, breathe. Relax, it was just a dream._

I fell back onto my pillow and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. I could still see Charlie's distorted face on my eyelids, still feel the cool night air, and the stone ledge underneath me as I lunged over the side...

I couldn't stop my stomach from clenching up, so I rolled onto my side and huddled into a ball.

Now that I was facing my bedside table, I could see the dusty glasses I had placed there months ago. The blue light bleeding through my curtains looked curved and distorted through their lenses. Ever since I started doing shows in San Francisco, I hadn't used them, although I technically still needed them. My vision wasn't too bad without them, but things from far away were always blurry. A bit of nostalgia hit my rib cage and settled there at the sight of them.

_Come. You belong to us._ The message wouldn't stop echoing in my head.

An image of Mr. Skits grinning came to mind, his grotesque angler fish face pulling at the wrong angles.

_Thy debt has not been forgotten._

 

* * *

 

"Wow, Maxy, are you all right? You look like you haven't gotten wink of sleep. Please tell me you didn't spend all night practicing again." Charlie crossed her arms as I came onto the stage, yawning.

"No, nothing like that. I just haven't been sleeping well." I rubbed under my eyes and then straightened.

_I'm awake. I'm incredibly awake and alert. I am not lying to myself whatsoever. Stop yawning._

Charlie's eyes softened, and she came closer to me, putting a hand on my arm. "Why's that?"

"Oh, just some bad dreams, that's all," I said in a nonchalant tone.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

This made me pause, and I looked at her carefully. Her forehead was wrinkled with worry, and she held my hands close to her as if they were the most valuable things in the world.

Looking at her, my throat felt thick. I brought her closer to me and wrapped my arms around her. It took a little bit of bending on my part, but she was able to tuck her head next to mine in an embrace. We both breathed deeply, and my nose tickled at the familiar scent of vanilla.

"Let's just say I'm very glad you're here and feeling well."

After a moment of pause, she hugged me tighter.

"I understand." Her voice was gentle. "You don't have to worry, Max. I'm not going anywhere."

I hadn't realized just how shaken the dream had made me until I was holding Charlie close to me, which felt like sipping a warm, soothing cup of tea.

I pulled back. "Anyway, we should probably get to work. I think everything's ready for our next show. We just need to work out the finale."

Charlie looked at me for a moment, checking me over to see if I was actually ready to continue, then nodded, approving of what she saw.

"Well, I was thinking we should do something completely new," she said, "you know what I mean? Something to really knock their socks off."

"Definitely. I want them babbling about it for days."

Charlie grinned. "Ooooh, what if we used those shadow hands? They scared the daylights out of Clarence Abernethy."

My face darkened for a moment, but I smiled at the image of Abernethy ducking for cover. "Yeah. I like it. I can pretend to summon some shadow monsters here," I came center stage and placed the Codex on the ground, pages open.

Charlie clapped her hands together. "And they can lunge at the audience, then pull away." She modeled the motion, launching forward and reaching her arms out, then pulling back.

"Let's try it," I said. I circled the Codex Umbra, speaking Latin under my breath and reaching my arm towards the book. I stopped in front of it, facing the audience. " _Orior_ ," I commanded.  _Rise._

Black fluid gathered in the book's binding and spilled out onto the floor, creating an inky pool within seconds. The substance didn't reflect any light, so it looked as if there was a gaping hole in the fabric of existence.

A black hand materialized from the spine, rising up at least eight feet in the air and waggling its fingers, waiting for commands.

"Adorior," I said, pointing for the shadow hand to attack the empty audience.

The hand obeyed immediately, shooting away from me. But instead of going towards the cushioned chairs, it went in Charlie's direction.

My heart skipped a beat. "Concesso!"  _Stop!_

The shadow continued, ignoring me and clasping its fingers around a surprised Charlie. Her mouth popped open and she looked at me, checking to see if this was a part of the plan.

An image of Charlie's lifeless, black eyes flashed through my head.

I dove towards the book and smashed the pages shut on the shadow creature. The shadow and the black goop instantly dissipated, like smoke clearing.

I gripped the book hard in one arm and pinched the bridge of my nose. Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead, so I wiped them off with one sleeve and stood up, feeling lightheaded. Taking measured breaths, I chanced a look at Charlie.

She wasn't looking at me, but instead at the ground, a hand splayed at her throat. A small smile played at her lips, which built into a large grin.

"Wow, I was not expecting that. Max, that was perfect. We need to do that for the show!" Charlie looked at me, but the fire in her eyes was quickly dowsed when she saw my expression. "Max, are you alright?"

"Am _I_  okay? Don't worry about me, Charlie, what about you? Are  _you_ okay?" I asked, coming closer to her and grabbing her shoulders. I looked her over, but couldn't find any injuries.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What's wrong?"

I paused and released my grip, taking slow breaths. "It's nothing, I just... wasn't sure if I should've surprised you like that."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Right... Well, don't worry, I loved it. Do you think it's a good idea to do it for the show?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's not exactly new. There are other things we can do."  _I never want to do that again for as long as I live._

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, you always seem to know exactly what you're doing. If we act like something's gone wrong for once... it would shake things up. I know  _I_ would be scared. The only reason I wasn't just now is because I trust you." I looked at Charlie for a moment, frowning. "But if it bothers you," she added quickly, "then we don't have to do it. I just liked it, was all."

_Well, it wasn't as if the shadows hurt her. Maybe I'm just being paranoid._

I shook my head and sighed. "No, you're right. The audience will love it. The whole thing just makes me... apprehensive, is all. I've been on edge lately because of the... because of the nightmares. We should keep practicing."

Charlie placed a hand on my arm. "Alright. And Max, don't worry. I'll be fine. I know you can pull this off. I believe in you."

I looked away.  _I wish I had your confidence._

 

* * *

 

"Adorior!" My voice boomed, which wasn't hard to do since the audience was absolutely silent and watching with anticipation.

I held the Codex Umbra aloft in one hand; I was keeping it close to me now, just in case I had to snap it shut again. A shadow hand had sprouted from the spine, and on my command, it went for Charlie, who was standing at the edge of the stage.

She lifted her hands to her mouth with mock surprise, and when the shadow gripped around her middle, she tried to pry herself free. My grip on the Codex tensed.

We had practiced this a dozen times, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened since that first rehearsal. The shadows had followed my every command. Even still, it made me nauseated to have the shadows so close to Charlie.

The shadow enveloped Charlie in a cocoon of darkness. There was a puff of smoke, and she vanished. The smoke clouds thinned, and the hand turned towards me, waiting for orders.

I placed the Codex on the ground in front of me and scowled at the shadow for the audience to see. The shadow returned to its place of origin, standing like a thin tree above me.

Reaching inside my jacket, I pulled out a stick. It wasn't impressive in the least, being just a small tree branch that I plucked earlier that day. The audience rumbled with laughter.

I held up a finger, as if telling the audience to wait. I reached down again, blocking the audience's view with my body, and the turned again to face the shadow, this time brandishing a sword.

The audience gasped, then erupted into cheers.

The sword looked only half there, similar to how the shadow creatures fluctuated from being solid to see-through. If I concentrated, I could see what the sword really was—the tree branch from before, but cloaked in shadow. It reminded me of a pirate's weapon with the way the end curved wickedly to a point.

I circled the book, slashing my sword back and forth in an attempt to look menacing.

"Give her back!" I shouted, pointing my sword at the creature.

The shadow lunged, and I sidestepped, chopping it in the wrist. The creature receded, shaking itself out as if to loosen up its fingers, then attacked again. I caught the shadow in the palm and pressed it against the floor with my blade, a triumphant grin on my face.

My command came as a whisper. "Dimittere eam."  _Release her._

The shadow squirmed violently under my blade until it ripped itself away. It poised itself over the Codex, fingers curled, and did nothing.

"Dimittere eam!"

Still the shadow did nothing. I tightened my grip on my sword, the handle biting into my gloved hand. My body felt stiff.

_They're not going to let her go._ _I_  knew  _They were behaving strangely. But this... this is on another level. They've never done something like this._

The shadow waited, almost as if it was expecting me to do something. If it was waiting for a reaction out of me, it was about to get its wish.

"Let her go!" I ran at the shadow and sliced at its base. It tensed, for a moment looking like a black lightning bolt. A dark blur hit me in the chest, lifting me off the ground and sending me backwards. My back hit the floor, knocking the air out of me. I wheezed.

I was dimly aware of the audience, an ocean of people that cried out at once when the shadow lashed out. Their concerned and excited tones washed over one another.

Rolling onto my side, I bared my teeth. I pushed myself up and held my weapon with cold focus, fixing the creature with a stare. The shadow appeared unfazed, waiting with its claw open to strike.

_If I can just get to the book..._

Dashing towards the shadow, I made an upward cut as it tried to claw me from above. It drew back, coiling, then sprang like a viper towards my head. I ducked, slashing up at its arm.

I came closer and closer to the book, the sword making a hollow vibrating sound every time it sliced through the air. The sound bothered my ears. It wasn't like anything I was familiar with; it was an alien sound—something that shouldn't have even existed in this world.

The shadow couldn't keep me from advancing. I came within a few feet of the Codex and deflected the shadow one last time.

"You're going to give her back whether you like it or not," I growled.

Lunging for the book, I snatched the edges of the binding and slapped the covers together. The shadow wilted and collapsed, its inky remnants quickly evaporating into nothingness.

I let out a breath and went to one knee, resisting the urge to collapse in front of hundreds of people.

A cocoon of light appeared as soon as the shadow faded away. The cocoon flashed, and when I blinked away the flare spot behind my eyelids, I saw Charlie standing at the edge of the stage.

She had her arms out for balance and looked a bit confused, but when the audience started clapping she smiled, gesturing towards me and clapping herself.

For the first time since assuming the name "Maxwell", I stared at the audience in a daze. The crowd was exploding with noise, louder than anything I'd heard them do yet.

I shook my spinning head and stood up, resuming my usual grin no matter how much I felt otherwise. With the Codex in one hand, I took a bow. When I straightened, darkness crept at the edges of my vision, and I tried not to let on that it felt like my lungs they were just dipped in oil and lit on fire.

I looked at Charlie and gave her a nod. She came to stand beside me, the audience still applauding, and blew a kiss at the dark crowd.

We took a few steps backward, and the velvet red curtains rushed to meet each other, muffling the noise of the crowd once they met.

_That was way too close._

"Max," she turned towards me and grabbed my hands, "that was probably our best act yet. I've never seen them go so wild. They were even throwing flowers on stage."

"I know. You were excellent out there. Is everything okay? You're not hurt, are you?" I placed a hand on her cheek and leaned closer, looking for any kind of scratch. My arms were shaking as I did so, especially now that my adrenaline was starting to fade. My fingertips brushed the rose perched in her hair, and with a start I realized that the petals were brittle and dark purple at the edges.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why? You've been awfully concerned about my health lately. Is something wrong?"

"No, no. I just want to make sure." I paused when her hand covered mine. For a moment, I forgot what I was thinking about. I blinked, trying to gather my senses. "I think your rose is starting to wilt."

"Oh, is it?" Charlie pulled the rose from her hair and thumbed its petals. One of them came loose and fell to the floor. "I guess it is. That's too bad." She frowned and held the rose more carefully, now afraid to loosen any more petals. "I guess it can't last forever though, can it?"


	9. February - Speak of the Devil

My feet pounded against the floor as I approached the door to my study. Grabbing the brass handle, I opened the door and locked it behind me.

I didn't even bother turning on my lamp as I fumbled for the secret lever. My hand clasped around the fake candle and I yanked it back. With the sound of creaking, the door in the fireplace swung open.

Ducking under the mantle, I lifted my head a second too early and bumped the back of my head.

"Ouch," I mumbled, reaching for the box of matches and the lamp I kept on the stool in the corner. I pushed a match against the box length once, twice, then three times, sparks turning into a single bright flame.

After the lamp was lit, I pulled the Codex from my jacket pocket and set it on the desk. The collection of things cluttered on my desk threw up stark shadows across the walls. I suppressed a shiver.

I flipped open to the summoning page. For whatever reason, the intricate and jagged lines that filled the circle in the center looked especially menacing, marked with jagged runes and harsh black ink. It looked as though it were a message, telling the reader to beware.

I raised a hand towards the book. "Voco vos, everto ex tenebris."

The pages of the Codex quivered in an invisible wind, and a bubble of black liquid rose from the center of the circle. The hellish creature looked like it was made of tar as it stretched and pulled itself out of the binding, making it look as though the Codex was giving birth to a nightmare.

An angler fish smile formed, and the creature solidified into the snake-like form of Mr. Skits. For some reason, he didn't fade in and out of existence like last time; he looked solid enough to touch.

"Salves, Praecantator."

I crossed my arms and fixed the shadow with a stare. If body language meant anything to him, it wasn't obvious; it felt about as useful as sneering at a shark.

"I summoned you here because I want to talk about what happened on stage."

"What ails thee?" Mr. Skits purred. "We performed as thou asked."

"Don't speak as if you don't know. Influencing events behind my back is one thing, but direct disobedience is another entirely. That stunt you pulled... why the sudden rebellion?"

"Dost thou recall our first meeting? Rememberest thou the deal that was made? For thee, thy side is still unmet."

I leaned in close to the shadow. " _She_ has nothing to do with __our__ deal. Leave her alone, or else."

Mr. Skits's grin grew wider. "Empty threats do not become thee."

"My threats aren't empty. I may not know what you want entirely, but I've figured out a few things. For one, you need me. You need me to use the Codex, and to perform the rituals that summon you to this world. You're strengthened whenever I use the book. If that's the case, then I'll just stop using it."

The shadow's smile disappeared. He glared at me with a toothy grimace. I recoiled. The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees—or at least it felt that way. At this point, it could've been my imagination.

"Ooh," I said, despite my unease, "didn't like that, did you?"

Mr. Skits's voice was a growl. "Thou hast need of the book. Without us, thou art nothing."

"Is that so?" I reached for the box of matches on the stool.

Mr. Skits watched me carefully, frozen.

I lit a match and held it over the Codex. The shadow drew away from the light, watching it like an old enemy.

A moment passed between us.

"Thou wilt not do it." Mr. Skits looked as though he were measuring me, analyzing the balled fist by my side and the tight fingers around the match. Sweat formed on my forehead, and I clenched my teeth.

The match burned until the fire was on the verge of singeing my fingertips. I waved it out, dropping the charcoal on the ground. I turned away from Mr. Skits.

__I can't do it.__ _My breathing was coming fast, and my head felt like it was spinning._ Voices chided me in my mind, calling me a coward. I tried to reason with them. _No, you don't understand. I can't give this up. And even if I did, how would I face Charlie? How can I tell her that the life I live is built on a monstrous lie?_

Mr. Skits's words repeated in my head. __Without us, thou art nothing.__

He was right. I hated it, but he was right. With them, I was the Amazing Maxwell. Without... what was I? Just a joke? A naive immigrant without a cent to his name and only parlor tricks to get him by.

I had to face facts. Charlie didn't even know my real name. She never knew William. It was Maxwell she got to know. If she had known me before, I doubted she would've given me a second thought.

"We shall get what we want. Thy deal with us must be met."

I slammed my palms on the table, coming within inches of Mr. Skits. I bared my teeth at him, but he didn't flinch. In fact, his constant grin grew wider.

"Listen you bastard," my voice was low and venomous, "leave Charlie out of this. She has nothing to do with my deal. If you touch her, so help me..." I turned away from the table, my hands curling into fists.

Mr. Skits shook, and at first, I couldn't tell that he was laughing. It sounded like a man gasping for air while being strangled, or maybe the last panicked gasps of an animal after being caught in a trap.

"Pitiful human threats. Frightened and helpless is the way of thy kind. Perhaps it was not thee using us, Praecantator. Rather, it was us using thee." I widened my eyes, feeling cold. The pit of my stomach was tied up in knots as I stared at the shadow's gleeful face. "We will get what we want, despite thy weak threats. It would be wise to prepare."

This was his only reply as he faded, the horrible hacking sound filling my ears, the room void of all else.

 

* * *

 

__**Dear Mr. Carter and Ms. Walters,** _ _

__**Fantastic job last week! I had several people tell me afterwards that it was the best performance from you two to date. I don't know what you guys did, as I wasn't present for the show, but it has the newspaper buzzing. I remember that you said you stopped reading** _ _ **The Call** __**, but you should hear what they have to say. They called the performance "chilling" and "we watched with anticipation, our eyes glued to the stage."** _ _

__**Anyway, I just had some people contact me. Some members of the Eastingway company came to your show last night, and they would like to record your act along with a few other performances to show at some nickelodeons. Can you imagine it? Your performance forever recorded for generations to see!** _ _

__**If you like the idea, get back to me.** _ _

__**\- Sincerely,** _ _

__**Mr. Pisum** _ _

I folded the letter and placed it on my nightstand, next to my dusty glasses. Ever since my talk with Mr. Skits, the world seemed far away. The letter didn't make the impact it would've a few months ago. Instead, it felt trivial. Had things like this mattered to me at one point?

Despite my relaxing evening stroll with Charlie, I felt tense. The silhouettes cast by my furniture made my skin prickle. It was easy to forget about __Them__ when Charlie and I were together, but now that I was alone, I felt as if something in the dark was watching me.

My hand went to the rose on my lapel. Pulling it out, I touched its delicate edges, which were starting to shrivel. It looked just like Charlie's.

__There's no way they could be dying—Charlie and I are fine. I... I just didn't do the spell right. Maybe some water will help it.__ An image of Mr. Skits grinning sat in my mind and refused to leave. I shook my head. __No, we're perfectly fine.__

Shedding my suit jacket, I grabbed the cup from my nightstand and walked to the bathroom. I tugged the sink's brass handle and dipped the cup under the clear flow of water. I looked up into the bathroom mirror and frowned at my dark reflection, the only illumination coming from my bedroom. My eyes looked bruised with lack of sleep, and lines were beginning to form just underneath.

__Marvelous._ _

Something moved in the mirror—something near my bed, where my suit jacket sat crumpled in a heap. I watched the dark room with narrowed eyes, ignoring the water overflowing the glass and dousing my hand in icy liquid.

I turned off the faucet and left the glass in the sink. Taking careful steps, I came to where I saw the the flicker of movement.

My suit jacket looked dead without a body to inhabit it, and inside its jacket pocket sat the Codex. I knelt down and picked it up, regarding it with a frown.

The book shuddered in my hand and I dropped it. I shot to my feet and backed away.

The cover flipped open and the pages turned, slapping together. Ancient diagrams whizzed by, and when it reached the center of the book, a familiar inky blackness pooled in the middle.

An image from a few months ago flashed in my mind, something I could never forget; it was that moment in the halls of the Orpheum, when I watched the shadows take off into the streets of San Francisco. The same night Mr. Abernethy was killed.

I pounced, hitting my hand on the pages so hard that it stung. My heart was pounding as I struggled to press the covers together. I tied my jacket around it in a knot. The book strained against it, stretching the fabric in an attempt to reopen. The liquid shadow rolled off of my hands as if it were water on an oily surface and zipped to the book, magnetized.

"Hah," I said, wiping my hands on my pants even though they were clean, "not this time."

The book shook and made a creaking sound, as if it was coughing. The blackness spurted out from the cracks between the pages, and the book swelled. My jacket made several popping sounds as the seams snapped.

I jumped on the book, my palms pressing against the cover with all my weight. I glared at the crimson M, a cold sweat forming on my forehead.

_When did the_ _ _book get so strong? Shutting it worked perfectly well last time.__  
  
I looked around my room for a solution, from my bed to the book-covered desk in the corner, but my mind was blank.

The shadows that were bleeding out covered the book's surface and swallowed my hands. I pulled away.

The Codex Umbra burst open, and the frayed sleeves of my jacket fell limply to either side. My mouth went dry.

A stretched face pulled itself out of the muck, looking like a skull with hollow eye sockets and a jagged grin. Several creatures clawed their way to the floor of my bedroom, giving the demons from Pandora's box a run for their money. Though their shapes varied from tall to skinny, short to fat, each one had something in common: an unfeeling, toothy smile. One of them hissed with a beak-like mouth, and then ran from the room on its four spindly legs. The others followed close behind.

I reached a hand towards the shadows. "Concesso, umbrae recedere, lumino!"

The light on my nightstand flared to life, but not in time to have any affect on the shadows, who contorted their shapes and squeezed under the door, escaping into the hallway. My fingers went cold.

__They're headed for Charlie._ _

I snatched my glasses from the table and sprinted to the door. I threw it open, not bothering to close it behind me as I raced down the hall. My feet clapped against the expensive tile. I flew by an older man in an sharp evening suit. He glared at me as I passed, but I couldn't have cared less.

__Elevator or the stairs? Stairs._ _

I veered to the right and took the grand steps three at a time, nearly slipping once and catching myself on the railing. When I came to the end of the stairs, I leaped to the bottom. My ankles stung with the impact.

I dodged the exotic plants and the low tables and chairs of the lobby, brushing past the doors and coming out onto the midnight street. I could see a glimpse of something black making jerky movements around the corner, in the direction of the boarding house.

My lungs were already screaming for me to stop, but I darted towards the shadows, a flash of boiling anger propelling me forward.

I placed my glasses on my nose mid-stride. Things from far away came into focus. Despite the circumstances, the extra sharpness kept me from going into a panic. I turned my head just in time to see the shadows cross Market Street like macabre crabs as they ducked into an alley. I crossed the cable car tracks and tried to picture a map in my head.

__Damn, I don't think the cable cars run this late. What's the fastest way to get there on foot?__  
  
Sweat dripped into my eyes, and cold air whipped past my face. The streets were empty. My shoes hitting the dirt along with my own breathing was all I could hear. I passed under several street lights. All of the dark buildings blurred together, glaring at me as I ran past. The city streets had never felt so hostile.

__Is the boarding house on my next left? No, the one after that. I'm sure of it.__ I didn't want to think about what would happen if I lost my way.

I recognized a few of the burnt out streetlights that marked where the boarding house was and gave a sigh of relief.

I couldn't see any sign of the shadows as I came across the sidewalk and ran up to the boarding house door. I grabbed the handle and nearly ripped the door off its hinges as I barreled in. Coming to the stairs, I took as many of them at a time as possible, the steps whining under my weight.

Three doors down, I came to Charlie's room. I pounded on the door, the wood shuddering in its frame.

_Please, please... Just let her be safe._

There was a squeaking sound as footsteps made their way to the door, and my knees went slack. I mouthed a __thank you__ at the ceiling.

The door swung open, and Charlie stood in the entryway, her eyes wide as she looked me up and down, appraising my probably disheveled appearance. My hair felt wind blown and all over the place, and my face was burning.

Charlie's mouth slowly came apart as she stared at me, trying to make sense of the situation. I was breathing too hard to say anything, so I waited for her to start asking questions. She didn't disappoint.

"Max? What are you doing here so late? Have you been running? Is something wrong?" Her voice was sharp with concern. She came closer to me and put a hand to my chest, right over my heart, which was taking its time coming to a normal tempo.

"Yes, I... I ran here. I just..." I looked out the window at the crescent moon, hoping it would give me an excuse to use. What could I possibly tell her? Demons from another realm were after her? I took a deep breath. "For some reason, I felt like you were in danger." The lie tasted flat in my mouth.

Charlie's eyebrows pinched together. She puckered her mouth. "Okay," she said slowly, "well, I'm safe. You don't have to worry."

Charlie's ocher eyes scanned me, reflecting what little light the moon was giving off. Having her warmth next to me and seeing her in one piece loosened up some of the stress my muscles were packing.

I cupped her cheek in one hand. "I guess I have an overactive imagination." I leaned in and brushed my lips to hers. She took in a sharp breath through her nose, and at first her mouth was tense against mine, but gradually she relaxed and leaned into me.

She pulled away first. "Are you alright? I mean really. You've been acting... jumpy... ever since our last show. If something isn't okay, you can tell me." Her hand brushed my cheek.

I avoided her eyes. "Charlie, I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about."

Charlie pursed her lips, a shadow passing over her features. "I consider it my personal business to worry about you."

I cracked a smile. It felt foreign on my face, as if I had convinced myself in the last hour that I'd never be smiling again.

A dark mass shifted behind Charlie, making her shadow look strange and distorted. I froze, watching as a clawed hand pulled itself like chewing gum from the wall, gathering threads of shadow to build its arm from the thick darkness in the hallway.

"Umbrae recedere, lumino," I said with barely any breath.

Light as bright as the sun filled Charlie's apartment, shining into the hallway and disintegrating the shadow. I was momentarily blinded.

Charlie stiffened in my arms and whirled to face her room. The lights has settled into a comfortable brightness.

"What was that?"

I blinked the spots out of my eyes. "Whoa... I have no idea."

Charlie folded her arms. "That's strange. Maybe it's a good thing you came to check on me after all."

__I can't believe They just tried to attack her. And right in front of me. Damn, They're persistent.__ I sighed inwardly. _She needs more protection, but how?_ _ _I'm not always with her.__

I paused, and idea striking me.

"Charlie, do you like living here? It's not the most secure location."

"Um, it works. It's not the best, but it's mine. Why?"

"You know, the Palace Hotel is always an option, if you're sick of this boarding house."

Charlie blinked. "I don't know, I haven't really thought about it. Would you really want me that close by all the time?"

I took her hands in mine. "Are you kidding? Nothing would make me happier."

Even in the dim lighting, I could see a flush color her cheeks.

"All right. I'll think about it."

I let go of her. Worry seeded itself in my chest. Were there any other shadows lingering, waiting for me to leave before they attacked?

Charlie paused in her doorway and turned her head towards me. "By the way, I like you in glasses. You should wear them more often. I'll see you tomorrow." She smiled. "Goodnight."

My hands shot to my face, my fingertips finding the cool rim of my glasses. I had completely forgotten I was still wearing them. Just before Charlie clicked her door shut, she gave me a mischievous smile.

I plucked the glasses from my nose and tucked them in my pocket, my face heating up. I would trade my sight for not looking ridiculous any day.

"Goodnight," I whispered. _Be safe._

The hallway felt colder after Charlie left. The shadows from the trees outside stretched across the wall, looking like grotesque fingers. I suppressed a shudder.

My mind felt scrambled, but I was already forming a haphazard plan to combat the shadows. It was my fault the shadows were targeting Charlie, and there was no way I was going to let them hurt her. Not while I was still breathing.

I could still fix this. I just needed more time.


	10. March - Me Myself and I

As I turned the key, clicking the lock open, my body went rigid. Pressing my teeth together, I threw open the lid of the wooden chest and peeked inside. The Codex rested alone at the bottom, looking like an unassuming regular book, except for the pool of black goop covering the bottom of the chest. The blackness bothered my eyes—it didn't reflect any of the light from my nightstand lamp. It was a black hole that lapped up against the sides of the chest.

I reached in and grabbed the book, tensing for any abnormal activity. Ever since the shadows tried to attack Charlie, I'd kept the book under lock and key in my bedroom. I wasn't sure how much this would do, seeing how the shadows could sneak through small crevices, but so far I hadn't had any incidents.

Charlie and I hadn't had any rehearsals—we both agreed to take a short break from shows, which made things easier—but I couldn't dodge them forever. I had to solve this problem once and for all.

I tucked the book in my jacket and left the room, keeping an eye out for anyone in the hallway. It was empty. I passed no one on the staircase, but I could hear laughter coming from far away. My staccato footsteps quickened their tempo. Coming to the room that acted as my study, I unlocked the door and stepped into the chilly room. Snatching a newspaper from my desk, I crumpled it and rummaged through my drawers, finding my matchbox.

I slid the box open, the matches rattling, and found a single match. I turned the delicate wood of the match in my fingers, feeling the squared corners.

_Are you sure about this?_ A voice scoffed in my head. _Think about it. If you burn that book, how are you going to perform? People won't fill the seats to see William Carter. Do you really want to live that kind of life again, pulling rabbits out of a hat for an empty theater?_

_I've weighed the risks_ , I replied. I knelt next to the fireplace and tucked the crumpled newspaper under the logs that were sitting there.

_What are you going to tell Charlie?_

I bit the inside of my lip and instantly regretted it. I swallowed the taste of blood—I had to stop doing that.

_I have no idea. But what else am I supposed to do? I can't let Them hurt her. Pressing the match against the box and striking a flame, I moved my fingers to the bottom and watched the fire move._

Taking a breath, I lit the newspaper. The fire grew slowly, crackling and devouring bottom log with heat and smoke. I held the book over the hungry fire, the scarlet M glaring at me, and inhaled until my rib cage hurt. I let it slip through my fingers.

It landed on the fire with a _plop,_ scattering sparks. I watched the fire lick at the pages for a moment.

_This is a bad move_ , snarled the voice.

I folded my arms and gritted my teeth. Walking over to my desk, I clamped my hands on its edges and forced out the breath I was holding.

_Just let it burn._ I refused to look at the fireplace. _Leave it. Don't you dare rescue it._

_I can already see it, the voice continued. You're so pathetic. What's your plan for surviving the cold industrial world? I suppose if showbiz doesn't work out, you can always start working for a factory that will pay you in pennies for back-breaking labor, just like all the other immigrants._

My fingers were pulsing from my tight grip, so I let go of the desk. The open flames caught my eye. The Codex was barely visible as the fire crackled away.

_Don't think about it_ , I chided myself. _Think about something else. Anything else. Remember why you have to do this._

My hands were shaking. The once chilly room was now burning. I dragged a hand across my forehead, and it came away wet. I turned away from the only brightness in the room, my eyes seeing nothing but spots and wood paneled walls.

_I wonder what Charlie will say when she learns that you're a fraud._ The voice's tone was nonchalant.

I looked back at the fireplace. The fire poker was sitting idle next to the mantle. I stared at it, the two voices in my head fighting as if they knew that this was the deciding battle to win the war. I took a step towards the fireplace.

One step was all I needed. After that, there was no hesitation as I grabbed the fire poker and used it to scrape the book out of the flames. I knelt down to pick it up. It felt cold, and on the cover there were no signs that it had been charred in any way. It was as if it had been sitting in the chest upstairs rather than the fireplace.

The spine shuddered, and the book launched out of my hands into the air, slamming against the study door, as if it was an animal that was trying to escape being cooked.

I took a step towards the book, but something hit my chest, no more than a blur. I bashed my shoulder as I fell against the wall and winced at the flash of pain.

With my chest throbbing, I looked at where the book fell. The book's cover was splayed open, pages facing the ground, looking like a harmless, ordinary book. I bared my teeth and got to my feet. Picking up the book, I flipped through the pages. Each one was completely untouched. The fire hadn't even _singed_ them.

_Since when was this book fireproof?_ I ran a hand through my hair and looked at the ceiling. I closed my eyes and took in a long, deep breath, then let it go. _It doesn't matter that I fished it out. It wouldn't have burned anyway._ Even though I reasoned with myself, I couldn't shake the heavy feeling in my stomach, as if my conscience had a bag full of stones slung around its neck. _I shouldn't have... I just..._

I looked back down at untarnished pages of the book and curled my lip. I grabbed one of the pages with a tight fist. When I tried to tear it free, a clawed hand popped from the book's seam and grabbed my wrist. I tried to pull my hand away, but the shadow's grip felt like a handcuff. I could feel bruises forming.

Only when I dropped the book did it release me. I rubbed my wrist and narrowed my eyes.

_Even though I had a moment of weakness, I still want to destroy this thing._ The thought was more of me trying to console myself than the actual truth—a way to distract myself from the guilt weighing on my chest. _But destroying the book is proving to be impossible. So if it can't be destroyed, what now?_ I looked away from the unassuming book crumpled on the floor and frowned. _Maybe I can figure out a way to restrain the shadows. They're growing powerful, but maybe I can use what I know to fight them off._

My stomach felt heavy, and my vision felt blurred at the edges. I slid my hands down my face, different plans of action rushing at me, but nothing sticking.

_I can keep them locked up for now. As for a permanent solution... I need to do some research. Somehow, I have to pretend that everything's normal until I can fix this. There has to be an answer. Please, let me find some way to control the shadows again._

 

* * *

 

I rubbed my eyes. The words on the page I was reading were blurring together, and I kept reading the same passage about ancient amulets over and over again. Why was I even reading about amulets? It wasn't like I had any lying around, and even if I did, it wouldn't fix the problem. I pulled the lantern sitting on the stool beside me closer, barely improving the terrible lighting in the cramped secret room.

My neck ached from leaning over the Codex for so long, so I straightened and took a deep breath. I didn't know how long I'd been there, but I couldn't walk out empty-handed.

I turned to the first page again. There wasn't an introduction of any kind, although a ripped page in the very beginning suggested maybe there had been one once. One page had a drawing of what looked like a magical staff, and another had pictures of a sinister-looking machine. I wasn't sure where you'd get the materials for such things, as they appeared to require something special, like a magical gem, to make them work.

By the end I was reading through different incantations, but nothing too helpful. There were only shreds of information about the shadow creatures—things I already knew.

_This is hopeless. You're just prolonging the inevitable._

My eyes rested on the vase in front of me, where two roses drooped. Charlie had given her rose to me in hopes that I could save it. So far, nothing had worked.

_I'm not letting them take her._

_Oh really? What about when you faltered with the match in front of Mr. Skits? Or last night, when you pulled the book out of the fire?_

A solution floated to the surface of my murky mind. _I can always take the book back to where I found it. I can leave it there and never look back._

The voice was quick to answer. _But you don't really want to do that, do you?_

Pinpricks of sweat gathered on my forehead. I closed the Codex and curled my hands into fists.

_You're wrong._

_Is that so? Not from what I've seen. You know what I think?  You never wanted to burn the book—not once, despite the fact that it poses a threat to both of you. You thought of everything you'd lose, didn't you? You thought of her._

I narrowed my eyes at the large letter M on the Codex Umbra. No matter how hard I squinted, it wouldn't come into focus. It wasn't like my eyesight was phenomenal to begin with, but I'd never had this much of a problem with close-up things.

_I always take her into account._

_Yes, but this time was different. You doubted. She never knew you before you found the book. She never knew William. Would she still love you, do you think, if she knew who you really were?_

I wanted to respond to the voice in my head, but something made me hesitate.

" _That book made you everything you are. They made you everything you are. Face it, you're a product of wishful thinking and dark magic. Without Them, you're nothing._ "

The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Somehow, the voice in my head sounded as if it were in the room with me, directly behind me.

I turned my head and almost fell out of my chair. Standing behind me was a man in a pinstripe suit, the same one I used for shows. He had the same dark hair, the same confident posture. The only thing that was different was his face. His eyes were hazel, like mine, but they were colder than the farthest reaches of space, as if everything human in him had been smothered, and all that was left was an empty husk. An insincere white grin stretched across his face.

My reaction wasn't entirely conscious. I grabbed the heavy metal typewriter sitting at the edge of my desk and threw it at the ghost. The typewriter hit empty air and slammed against the wall with a _ching_ , leaving a white mark on the wallpaper and metal bits scattered across the floor.

Running my fingers through my hair, I tried to swallow, but my throat wouldn't let me.

_You're losing it. Get a grip._

_Just keep working._

I opened the Codex and flipped to a random page. The passages might have contained Latin spells, but I couldn't see well enough to make them out. They were nothing more than black scribbles against the yellowing pages.

_I can't see straight... Maybe that's my problem. I need a new perspective to see the answer. Then everything will be clear. A new perspective. A new answer._

I fumbled for the desk drawer handle and slid it open. After rummaging for a moment in the heap of odds and ends, my hands found what they were looking for. The metallic edge of the knife winked in the dim lantern light. I thumbed the handle. From somewhere away, I could hear people talking. Actually, it was more like they were whispering. The voices clamored over each other and faded in and out, like waves on the ocean. I couldn't make out what they were saying, and I couldn't tell where they were coming from.

_Just focus on what you have to do. Ignore them._

Rising from my chair on wobbly feet, I stumbled towards the closest wall and slid my hand across the wallpaper.

_Where should I begin? Let's see... I'll start at the beginning. Insanity. Whenever They are near, my grip on reality weakens. Sanity is the first step to understanding all of this._

With the knife gripped tightly in my hand, I stabbed at the wallpaper and scratched out some rough letters.

"I... N... S..." I muttered under my breathe.

Before long, the word _insaniamstood on the wall, the letters jagged and grotesque. I squinted at the Latin word for a moment, but soon continued with placing an equal sign next to it. I hacked out a symbol after the equal sign. It was something I'd seen in the Codex before, on the summoning page. There had to be a clue there, something to do with how the shadows traveled between their world and ours. Perhaps the word and symbol were linked, since they appeared together throughout the book._

I continued carving, moving around the room when I ran out of space, sometimes even using my stool to reach the ceiling. For every Latin word I carved, a symbol with the summoning page came to mind, and I paired them together. I didn't question it. The dull rasp of the knife on wallpapered wood was satisfying to listen to compared to the whispering voices. The noise was distracting. I wanted it to stop.

_Precious... they want something precious... illusions, the corner of your eye... voices, darkness..._

"Stay away from her," I murmured. I stared at the name I had carved into the wall, which had come to me unbidden. I stabbed at the wall again, making the same movements.

_Charlie. What am I going to do, Charlie...?_ I looked up at the sharp letters, the ripped wallpaper looking like an open wound.

_Wait. What am I doing?_

I dropped the knife and swiveled my head to observe the damage. Scratches were everywhere, some barely intelligible. I backed away from the walls, stumbling.

I put a hand on the nearby wall to steady myself, my fingers brushing over the word _insaniam _.__ A cold sweat covered my forehead.

_This is Their fault. Their presence is affecting me._

I covered my eyes with my hands. Normally the darkness of my eyelids was comforting, but now it felt hostile, as if a monster was using this as an opportunity to sneak up behind me. I sat on the ground and hugged my legs with my arms, burying my face in my knees.

Three short knocks at my door broke me out of my fog—a brief gasp of air. It sounded muffled, probably coming from outside my study door.

"Maxwell?" It was barely intelligible, but I recognized Charlie's voice.

I pushed open the secret door and came to my feet in the study, feeling shaky. Pausing to look at myself in the mirror above the fireplace, I winced.

My hair looked as if I let monkey play with it, and my dark circles had become more pronounced, making me look ghoulish. My skipped meals were beginning to show in my cheeks.

I ran a hand through my hair, doing a poor job of smoothing it out. Another round of knocks came at the door, this time louder and more impatient. Making sure I was standing up straight, I took in a breath and threw open the door.

Charlie's hand was still raised in mid-knock. She stared at me, taking in my disheveled appearance. I straightened my wrinkled tie and swallowed, hyper-aware of the worry that was building behind her eyes.

"Hi Charlie. What are you doing here so late at night?"

"Night? It's morning. Almost ten o'clock, actually. You didn't meet me in the lobby, so I went to find you. Is everything all right? You look like you haven't slept since last month." She came closer and put a hand on my arm. Her eyes were stern, prepared to be skeptical of any lies.

"I... there's nothing wrong, Charlie. I'm fine, really." I rubbed my face. "I've just been a little sick. But I'm getting over it. I'll be right as rain in a day or two."

Charlie's mouth made a hard line. I felt a sinking feeling in my chest.

"You keep saying that your fine, but you look anything but. Is there something you're not telling me? Whatever it is, please, talk to me about it. We can figure it out together."

"Charlie, you're worrying over nothing. Really, I'm okay." _Charlie, please, I would be honest with you if I could. Even if you did believe me, the less you know the better._

Taking a brief glance over her shoulder, she placed a hand on my chest and pushed me from the doorway into the study. She closed the door behind her and looked at the ground, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

"Max, I'm not stupid," she said, her voice soft.

I paused. "I never said you were."

"You know you can trust me, right?" She looked up from the carpet, her eyes vulnerable. They held a childlike innocence in them-a naiveté that was pure and precious. More than anything, I wanted to protect that in her.

"Charlie, it's not that. I trust you."

"Do you?" She took a step closer. "Then just tell me what's been bothering you. Maybe I can help." She came closer still and placed her hand on my cheek, standing on her tip toes so she could reach.

"That won't be necessary," I whispered.

Charlie frowned. "Why not?"

I dropped her gaze and stared at my shoes. "Because I can fix my own problems. Just leave me be. I'll be fine."

"Really? You've been missing for the past week. If anything, you need less alone time."

I grabbed her hand and gently pulled it away from my cheek, despite how much I didn't want to.

"Charlie, I appreciate your concern, but I have some work to get to. Go out, enjoy your day. I'll be here when you get back."

"No, it's not that simple. I know something's wrong. Just come with me. There's no reason—"

"—I'm not going to argue about this," I cut her off, and she stared at me with wide eyes. "My work is here. Please, go on without me."

Her face hardened. She balled her hands into fists."Maxwell, why are you so determined to face whatever it is you're dealing with alone?" Her voice was taut.

This made me pause. "I... because it's safer that way." I turned away from her.

"Safer? Max, you need to tell me what's going on. You haven't been sleeping, you've barely touched your food," she counted items off on her fingers, "and whenever we actually practice, which isn't often lately, we hardly do anything. You look at me as if the grim reaper is only a few steps behind, and you keep looking over your shoulder when there's no one there!"

"It's not like I _want_ to keep you at arm's length, Charlie. I would tell you if I could, it's just..."

"Just what? I know you're capable, but everyone needs help—"

"—I'm trying to protect you, Charlie!" My desperate voice stopped Charlie dead. Her mouth popped open. We looked at each other, the silence stretching between us. I swallowed and spoke up first. "Charlie... please, trust me. I can't involve you in this. Not ever. Just... I can't tell you any more than that, so... stop asking. In fact, I think it's best that you leave." I turned away.

"But..." Charlie opened her mouth, then closed it again. She recoiled, her eyebrows drawing together. It looked as if she was searching the carpet for an answer—an explanation for something she missed. As she stared at the carpet, her frown grew harsher, and her fists shook. She then looked up at me abruptly, a spark in her eyes. "Alright. I get it. A magician never tells his secrets. If you want to do this all on your own, fine. I can't stop you. But if you ask me, you're making a mistake. Whatever this is that you're dealing with, I can see that it's wearing on you. You're afraid, and I think you'd be less afraid if you'd just..." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Whatever. I'll let you get back to your work. But if you ever change your mind and decide that you want to talk... you know where to find me."

I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn't know what to say, so I closed it again. Charlie turned away and walked to the door, giving one last glance at me over her shoulder, then closed the door behind her, taking the warmth in the room with her.

The only sound I could hear was the ticking grandfather clock in the corner.

My insides felt bruised, as though they had been kicked one too many times. I curled my hands into fists.

_I'm sorry, Charlie._

The journal sitting on the corner of my desk caught my eye. I walked over to it and flipped to an open page. Grabbing a nearby pen, I sat down at the desk and started to write. My hand quivered, making my handwriting look as though I'd written it in the dark, but I didn't care.

**_I've come to a decision. I can't destroy the book. The shadows will always fight back, so that doesn't leave me with a lot of options._ **

**_I can't endanger Charlie with this. Not anymore. It's better if Charlie doesn't know the truth. I don't think I'd be able to face her if she did._ **

**_The only solution left is to leave this place. When I do, I'll take the book with me and get it as far away from Charlie as possible. After I break things off with her,_** I stopped writing for a moment. I stared at the words. They didn't feel real. I closed my eyes and took in a slow breath. _It's for the best. Just... just let her go. She'll be better off without you._ I opened my eyes again and continued writing, my pen pressing harder against the page. _**I'll find somewhere else to perform. In a few years, she'll forget all about me.**_ I gritted my teeth.

**_I need to slowly disappear. I'll decrease the number of performances until they're slow trickle, and I'll limit my contact with Charlie. I'll still keep an eye on her though, just from a distance._ **

_**If Charlie can only be safe without me in her life, then...**_ my pen hovered for a moment, but I pressed down again with force, _**I'm willing to make that sacrifice.**_


	11. April - The Show Must Go On

There was a knock at the door. When there was no answer, it swung open, making a triangle of light on the carpet.

Charlie poked her head into the room, eyes narrowed.

"Maxwell? Are you in here?"

Pulling her red hat closer to her head, she walked into the room and approached the desk, fumbling for the lamp.

The light clicked on, and I froze in place. Charlie's gaze lingered on me for a moment, then moved on. I resisted the urge to sigh with relief. The smug smile I was wearing faltered for a fraction of a second.

_Stay absolutely still. This will all be for naught if she notices me now._

So far, my plan was working. For the past few weeks, I'd been limiting my contact with Charlie as much as possible. Rehearsals were shorter, our shows were infrequent, and our contact was sketchy outside of work at best. With time, Charlie's anger had faded into a dull cold acceptance. Whenever we spoke, her tone towards me was soft and quiet, and if she smiled it wouldn't reach her eyes. There was a gap growing between us... and it was for the best.

The spell that I was using was a lucky find—it was the perfect spell for vanishing, but being present enough to keep tabs on Charlie. It allowed me to hide in a photograph, as long as I was one of the subjects, and at that moment I was conveniently situated in a picture of Charlie and I above my office desk. There was glass in front of my face, and a wall that felt like paper behind me. I wasn't sure if I was two-dimensional or three; perhaps I was a mix between the two.

I figured she would be looking for me. We had a show tonight, and I wasn't planning on showing until the last minute. The skin around Charlie's eyes was red, and her posture was beginning to slump over like a flower that hadn't been watered. Was that because of me? I wanted to reach out—to tell her that I was right here, and that she didn't have to worry. But I stayed still.

She poked around my desk, flipping through meaningless papers and books. When she couldn't find anything, she went to the fireplace, her eyes sliding up to the mirror just above the mantle. She put a hand to her chin, a crease forming between her eyebrows as she thought.

Charlie's eyes fell to the candles on the mantle. They were untouched and white; unremarkable, unless you looked closer. The one on the left looked normal, but the one on the right was yellower and didn't have the same waxy sheen to it. Charlie grabbed it and tried to lift it. When it didn't budge, she pulled it downwards, activating the secret door with the sound of grinding gears and wood shifting. Light spilled from inside the fireplace. She titled her head to take a peek.

_That's my Charlie. Of course she would figure it out._

She was turned away from me, so she didn't see my face slip out of its smile. I leaned forward and watched her crawl inside my secret room.

I racked my brain, running through different things I usually kept in my secret office. The only thing that could harm her was upstairs in my room, locked in a chest and surrounded by electric lamps. It was a temporary solution, and something the shadows would eventually find a way around, but I didn't have any better options.

_But the markings on the walls... What will she think?_

Ever since my... episode... the walls of my secret room looked as if they belonged to someone fit for an insane asylum, with Latin words and symbols scratched up and down the walls. I hadn't been able to study there since.

Motion caught my eye. I focused on the hanging ceiling lights, looking for what I'd seen twitch. The chain holding up the lights looked strange, as if a black snake was curling around it. The dark substance was oozing from the ceiling. With a horrible pang of realization, I remembered that the room above this one was my bedroom—the same room that the Codex was locked up in.

_They must've leaked from the chest upstairs. The lights aren't strong enough anymore._

Two hands formed, stemming from the arm coiled around the hanging light. They moved towards the fireplace, claws outstretched.

 _No!_ I pressed my hands against the glass barrier, watching with horror as they inched towards Charlie.

Different plans of action rushed through my head. My attention flicked to the light sitting on my desk.

"Umbrae recedere, lumino, _"_ I whispered urgently, outstretching my hands towards the lamp.

The tiny lamp flared with all the brightness it could muster, filling the room with white light. The shadow recoiled, looking distorted against the brightness, then splintered into tiny pieces before disintegrating.

As soon as the shadow disappeared, I was met with a wave of dizziness. I bent over, resting my hands on my knees. Summoning light had always been difficult—even one spell could take its toll, and lately I had been using all of my energy to hide in photographs. I had a constant headache, and I could always feel my grip on reality loosening, as if I was living in a dream rather than real life. Or a nightmare.

I went to all fours, pressing my hands against nothing but whiteness, which I assumed was the edges of the photograph. I couldn't see what was happening in the room. All I could think about was catching my breath.

I was faintly aware of rapid footsteps, growing quieter as they receded into the distance.

"Superficies," I muttered. If I was going to pass out, I didn't want to do it in the picture.

With a _pop_ , I found myself on the floor, hands and knees on the ratty mauve carpet.

_Wake up. Stay alert—you're not through yet._

I blinked the black dots from my eyes, and my vision settled. I tried to stand up, and as I did my hand brushed something sitting on the floor. I stared at the burgundy object. It took a moment for it to register, but I recognized it as Charlie's hat.

After a moment of hesitation I grabbed the hat and stood. I rubbed the soft material between my fingers and frowned. Did she see the shadow creature and try to escape, or did she run away from what she saw in my room? I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh.

_Either way, she's gone now. Whatever made her leave so quickly, hopefully it will keep her from coming back._

I curled my hands into fists, bending the rim of the hat. The bridge of my nose wrinkled.

Turning to face the portrait I just exited, I had a start when I saw that the picture had changed. Originally, the picture portrayed myself and Charlie standing next to each other, both of us with smiles. But my smug smile had been replaced with a laughing mouth, and I wore round glasses with a white tuxedo—the same outfit I wore for my first and last show in New York City. It wasn't Maxwell standing in the painting. It was William, and he was laughing with Charlie. The man in the photograph had an innocence to his eyes, unburdened by fear. Charlie looked content beside him—just as content as she had looked with the Amazing Maxwell. I wasn't sure why the picture changed, but I did know one thing: it was taunting me. I flattened the edge of my lip in a grimace.

With blood pounding in my ears, I snatched the letter opener sitting on my desk and slashed at William's face. The paper tore, leaving a white gash across his cheek. I jabbed at it again and again, teeth bared, until I could barely make out his face underneath all the marks.

Breathing hard through my nose, I dropped the letter opener on my desk with a _clang_ and walked over to the mantle, letting Charlie's hat slip from my fingers as I ducked into the fireplace.

Emerging in my secret room, I could see that the lantern I usually kept in the corner was knocked over in the middle of the floor. A bitter taste rose in my mouth at the mental image of Charlie using it to look at the walls.

I grabbed the lantern, turned it off, then violently shoved it back on its stool. A crack appeared in the glass, but I couldn't have cared less.

Pulling the jacket from my shoulders, I hung it on the free hanger next to my desk. The subtraction of my jacket did little to ease my rising body temperature.

 _She took my other costume. She must still be counting on be being at the show._ I glanced at my ruffled stack of books, which she had probably searched through for clues on my whereabouts.

A panicked thought flashed through my head. I pawed through the stack, searching for one thing in particular. While the Codex Umbra was tucked away, I hadn't thought about my journal.

_Agh, how could I forget! I left it in my jacket pocket. There's no way she wouldn't find it._

I covered my face with a hand. I had written most of my encounters with the shadow creatures in that journal, as well as my thoughts and plans for leaving. I had no idea what she would think when she saw it.

I lowered my hand from my face, the poster just above my desk catching my eye. It was a poster of me, just before I'd met Charlie. I had been doing solo shows as Maxwell. Back then, I felt unstoppable. The poster looked at me with a smug grin.

Heat boiled under my skin. I lunged for the poster and ripped half of it from the wall, crumpling it in my fist.

_This is your fault._

Throwing the paper to the ground, I turned to leave and pushed through the secret door, storming through my office. Just before I opened my door to leave, I spotted something white on the floor.

Sudden apprehension filled my gut as picked up and turned a letter over in my hands. _To Max_ was written on the envelope in looping handwriting. I recognized the penmanship; there was no doubt it was from Charlie. I tore into the letter methodically, bit by bit, stalling by opening the envelope as slowly as possible. I smoothed out the paper's folds and scanned the letter.

**_Max,_ **

**_Where are you? I haven't heard from you in days! I stopped by your place, so I've got your props and costume for the show. I'll see you at the theatre tonight, I hope?_ **

**_We need to talk. I know you want to keep me out of whatever it is you're dealing with, but I can't keep worrying about you like this. There's some serious creepy stuff going on in your study. I think we both could do with some time away. Maybe when this show is over we can take a little break? My sister said we could use the family cabin up in BC if we want to get away._ **

**_XO,  
Charlie_ **

I let out the breath I was holding. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. My heartbeat became uneven, as if it had gone from running to stumbling. I reread the letter, just to make sure I'd gotten it right.

 _She still doesn't know what's going on._ I dragged a hand across my face and rested my fingers on the bridge of my nose. _She's still expecting me at the show. How am I going to explain myself? I could lie again, but..._ I paced around my office. I couldn't even go down that line of thought without feeling as though there were a huge rock blocking my way. I knew I had to tell her the truth. But how could I? What would happen if I did? How would she react? And would she be in more danger if I did?

But... the idea of finally telling her the truth made my insides feel lighter. The feeling was more serene than anything I'd experienced in months. But the feeling was reigned in when I remembered that telling the truth meant exposing that my success was cheated for.

 _I'm leaving this place forever anyway. What does it matter?_ I paused in my pacing. _It's not like I was planning on staying in her life. I might as well tell her, and... and then if she decides she doesn't want anything more to do with me..._ I clamped my teeth together, building pressure in my jaw. _Well, at least she'll know the truth. She deserves that much. Charlie already has my journal. The least I can do is explain myself before I go. I... I'm tired of hiding. It's time to end this—once and for all._

 

* * *

 

I rapped my knuckles against the wooden door, trying for all that I was worth to catch my breath.

"Charlie?" I was breathing hard from running up the flight of stairs.

_Please be here._

"Maxwell? Is that you?" Her voice was muffled, but I could still tell that it was stretched tight.

Before I could answer, the door swung open. Charlie stood in the doorway with a chaotic mix of emotions turning on her face. She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth as if she was about to reprimand me, but she closed it and took in a deep breath.

"I know," I said. "You don't have to say it. I'm sorry. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. That's what I came here to do, actually—to talk. To finally tell you the truth." Charlie's face softened with surprise. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," she said. We stared at each other for a moment. Her bottom lip quivered.

She closed the distance between us and wrapped her arms around my middle. For a moment, my lungs stopped working. Stooping, I returned her embrace and tried to commit to memory the scent of vanilla. It felt as if there was something corrosive eating at my heart, something that had been there for a while, hurting me, and now the acid was done chewing through all the tough exterior layers. Now it was getting to the vulnerable, fleshy insides. I sighed.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," Charlie said through my shoulder, her body relaxing. She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"I can't promise that."

Charlie pulled away and checked my face to see if I was joking. When I didn't say anything, she frowned and turned, motioning for me to come inside.

Her petite frame was silhouetted the large front large window in her parlor. The small room was bright and clean, with little in the way of furnishings. Most of the space was filled by a tiny couch and a side table, which was decorated with a single lamp. Beside the lamp, sat another _Sherlock Holmes_ book--one that was further along in the series--and my journal. Charlie came to an ornate beige couch and sat down. I took a seat beside her.

"So..." Charlie grabbed my journal, which was sitting on a nearby table, and handed it to me. "I found this with your costume. Perhaps you'd like it back."

I smoothed a thumb over the leather cover. "Did you read any of it?"

"I..." She looked down, brushing the hair from her face. "I read most of it." Her voice was quiet.

"Charlie..." Charlie's eyes flickered up to look at me, reflecting the window light. There was an uncertain curve to her mouth, and her shoulders were curled inward as if she was trying to make herself a smaller target. "Do you remember the first day you rehearsed with me?"

"I do."

"Do you remember how you felt when you held my book? When the shadows appeared?"

"Yes..." A distracted look came over her face. "It felt like... like someone from far away was looking at me. Someone I couldn't see. Something about the shadow seemed... _wrong_ , but I couldn't pinpoint why." Charlie's face turned pale, and her voice lowered to a whisper. "Maxwell, what's going on?"

I took her hands, which were resting on her lap. "There's a lot I haven't told you about that book. About me."

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

I sighed. "I guess the best place to start is the beginning... Well, first off, my real name isn't Maxwell. It's William." Charlie's eyes widened, but I continued, "I came across the book on my way to California. That book... that book is the secret to my success. Before I found it, I was barely getting by. No one in New York City liked my acts. I was an immigrant with no prospects, and the last thing I wanted to do was live in the city slums with a low-paying factory job. My only way out of my financial problems was going West, to live with my brother in Corona."

I didn't dare to look at Charlie. She was silent.

"On my way there, my train collided with a circus train sitting idle on the tracks, and I was thrown from the wreck. I wandered the desert, lost, until I happened upon the book. Inside, it had pages upon pages of diagrams, and ancient incantations written in Latin. It called itself the Codex Umbra on the inside cover. I deciphered it," I swallowed, "and quickly discovered its true potential."

At this, Charlie gave me a serious look. "True potential? Are you saying it can perform magic? _Real_ magic?"

Several versions of what I was about to say ran through my head before I picked one.

"The magic was never a lie, Charlie. Every spell I ever used, it was all Them. I know it sounds crazy, but for once, I'm telling the truth."

"Them? Do you mean... the shadow creatures? They're... real?" She hesitated, staring at me with shock.

"Yes. I don't totally know what They are—only that They come from another world. I made a deal with Them: success as a magician in exchange for something down the road. They never specified what, until now." I wondered if the unrest I felt inside showed on my face, because Charlie narrowed her eyes.

"So these things... what did they want?"

I hesitated. "You."

"Me?"

I withdrew my hands and turned away. I couldn't look at the fear in her eyes. She was too innocent—it was like trying to explain what a slaughterhouse was to a lamb. "I'm so sorry Charlie. You've been in terrible danger, and it's all my fault. I've been going to great lengths to keep you safe, to try to distance you from the book, and me. But soon, that's not going to be enough."

Charlie stood up from the couch. I couldn't read her expression. "In your journal, your last entry talked about leaving San Francisco forever." She plucked the journal off the couch and flipped the pages. " 'I'll find somewhere else to perform. In a few years, she'll forget all about me _.'_ " Her eyes pinned me in place. "Were you really going to leave and perform somewhere else without me?"

"Please understand Charlie, it's not because I want to. I have to protect you, Charlie. I've tried destroying it, but... but that didn't work. I didn't want to stop performing, and I didn't want to lose you..." I looked down at the blue oval carpet, analyzing the different threads and ignoring Charlie's glassy eyes. "I just didn't want to face you and say that the successful person you knew was a lie. But the shadows tried to attack you again, and I—" my voice cracked, "I didn't want to lie to you anymore. You deserve to know the truth." I stared at Charlie's tiny feet as she approached. "They tried more than once. The night I ran to your place and woke you up—They were right behind you." The image reappeared in my head—shadowy claws reaching towards her from the dark pockets of the hallway. My heart rate picked up. "This morning, when you were in my office, for a moment I thought it was over. You don't know how close they were, Charlie. If I hadn't been there..."

"How did you know I was..." Charlie looked down and shook her head. "This is crazy."

"I know. And I don't expect you to believe me, but—" Charlie had taken a step closer. Her fingertips met my face and slid to cup my cheek. My breath stalled in my throat.

"Max—er, I mean, I guess your name is William."

"You know, I'd actually prefer it if you'd keep calling me Maxwell." Somehow, I found it in myself to wink.

"Okay, Max," Charlie smiled faintly. "Well, you don't have to worry. I... I think I believe you."

Something in my mind wasn't computing what she just said. "What? You..." I looked at her and had a moment of surprise when I realized that her nose was only sliver away from mine.

"I believe you. This," she gestured to the air, "well, it's a lot to take in. But ever since I read your journal, I've been contemplating all of this. Your entry about leaving San Francisco forever terrified me. I knew you wouldn't leave me to deal with the show by myself, so I figured we could talk things out before you did anything crazy. I think I've always known that there was something... odd about the shadow creatures, and you always seemed to be hiding something. But we can figure this out together. I don't know what these things are exactly, but we always seem to find a way." Charlie gave me a comforting smile, and it conflicted with her shining eyes.

For the first time in a while, it felt as if I'd found the light in a maze. It wasn't much—just a window, merely a glimpse of the sunshine. But after bumping around in dark corners for such a long time, it felt like heaven.

I leaned forward and curled my arms around Charlie's back, tucking my face next to her hair and breathing in the scent of vanilla. She buried her face in my chest, her breath warm against me.

"I'll keep you safe. As long as I'm alive, I swear it."

Charlie looked up at me, tenderness in her eyes. Our heads inclined, and our lips met. I brushed her cheek, then broke away from the gentle kiss. The light was fading from the window.

"We still have a show tonight," Charlie said, "and it's probably soon. Do you think it's a good idea to perform, or should we leave now while we can?"

I paused. "We?"

Charlie pulled away. "Of course. You don't seriously think I'm going to let you leave without me, do you?" I was going to reply, but Charlie shushed me with a finger to my mouth. "I know you want to protect me, but honestly from what you've described, I think I'm safer by your side."

"But what about the shadows? You're not safe as long as _They_ are nearby."

Charlie gave me a wistful look. "Max, playing with demons was a bad idea from the beginning. Maybe it's best if we leave the book in a place where no one will find it, and then get as far away from it as possible. I know... it's hard for me to consider too. But think about it: we'll finally be safe from those _things_ , and we'll be together. Isn't that what's important? We can head up to the cabin in British Colombia, and after that... well, I don't know. We can figure it out. It will be step into the unknown—an adventure." Charlie's eyes brightened. "And the best part is, we'll have each other's backs. What do think?"

I looked at our hands, intertwined between us. "I... I think you're right." I frowned. "It really is the best solution."

Charlie peered up at my face. "Then what's wrong?"

"It's just a shame that we'll have to leave this all behind. It's been fun." I exchanged a glance with her, and she nodded, her air becoming more wistful. We sat in silence for a moment. "I agree with you plan," I continued, "but there's just one problem. Wouldn't dropping off the face of the Earth look suspicious?"

Charlie didn't answer.

"Charlie, I don't want curious people looking for us, and I especially don't want them looking for the book. We need to be the only ones who know about this, otherwise the book will go on wrecking havoc. The thought of using the book makes me nervous, believe me. But think we should do this show tonight, then resign. That way, it will look more as though we're retiring."

Charlie's eyebrows drew together. "I see your point, but are you sure? What if the shadows try to attack us?"

"So far, they haven't been able to get past my light spell. That's how I've gotten them to disappear every time so far."

Charlie rubbed the back of her neck, nodding slowly. "Well... Okay. If you're confident you can hold them off. Actually, maybe it's for the best. After all, the Eastingway company was supposed to record this performance. Our shows can go down in history. The movie will perform for us, even when we're gone. I think I can be satisfied knowing that, even if we never give another performance again."

 _Even if we never give another performance again._ Charlie's words were a bittersweet kick to the gut.

 _It's really going to be over after tonight, isn't it? I can't imagine doing anything else. But I guess nothing lasts forever _.__ I gave a shaky sigh. _I guess I should just be happy to have gotten away with this for as long as I have. Still hurts._

"Let's make this last performance a good one," I said.

 

* * *

 

The Orpheum was a cacophony of voice. People shouted orders backstage, and performers chatted in the wings. Mr. Pisum was speaking with his colleagues in the front row. Since this wasn't an advertsied show, the Orpheum wasn't as packed as it usually was. Performers took up most of the front seats. The Eastingway company had already recorded several shows earlier that day, and as a result the backstage was a mess. It was an ordeal just to get to the wings without tripping on feather boas or juggling pins.

I dropped the curtain I was peeking around and sighed.

"Are we still good to go?" Charlie sidestepped a tower prop from the _Romeo and Juliet_ production, coming beside me to put a hand on my arm. Her brown eyes glinted in the stage light, and I knew what she was really asking.

The shadows had been quiet. So far, They hadn't attempted to attack Charlie, and the pages had stopped leaking liquid shadows. I wasn't sure what their withdrawal was all about. To be honest, Their silence made me feel more restless than their open attacks.

I gave her a thin smile and took her hand. "Everything will be fine. Just relax." I gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance. She nodded, her shoulders tense. "Charlie, look at me." I put a hand on her chin and titled her face up. "I just want you to know... I love you."

Charlie's face scrunched up. She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing tightly and rubbing her face in my jacket. I returned her hug with a light arm around her shoulders. She let go of me, sniffing and rubbing her eyes, then gave me a genuine smile.

"Ladies and Gentleman, we present the Amazing Maxwell and his assistant," called a deep voice.

We took our places, Charlie standing next to me and holding her hands clasped in front of her.

"Strange wallpaper," Charlie remarked, looking at the scene in back of us. A landscape was painted on the backdrop, with clouds hung from the stage catwalk and painted wooden trees set up around us.

"They said that the wilderness theme fit the feeling of our show. Something about the mysterious nature of the magic. But I think they're just too lazy to change the backdrops from the act before us." I rolled my eyes, and Charlie grinned. I put on a smirk and turned to face the closed curtains.

The voice behind the curtains spoke up. "Filming in three, two, one."

The curtains parted, revealing the audience and a man turning the handle of a cinematograph, its lens pointed in our direction. Mr. Pisum was whispering to Jacques from the comedy team in the front row. Anastasia was sitting nearby, inspecting her nails and pretending to appear disinterested, but probably eavesdropping.

Charlie gestured towards me and clapped, a broad smile on her face. I took a bow, then lifted my arms and exchanged a quick glance with Charlie. Her eyes didn't betray any sign of worry, despite the fact that she looked tense seconds ago backstage. This was no big deal; something we've done hundreds of times before.

Flashing a grin at the audience, I made a show of summoning the Codex with a puff of smoke. Charlie flinched from the smoke with a smile on her face, then spread her arms as if to say _ta-da_. I handed the book to her, then took a step back as she showed the audience its pages.

Charlie turned to face me, the inside of the Codex pointed in my direction. I stretched forward a hand and pulled it back, small flickers of shadow following in my wake. It was as much as I dared to summon. When the tiny wisps of shadows dissipated easily, I felt a bit of my tension ease up.

_So far, so good. It's like letting out a trickle from a dam, but I can control it._

I turned to face the dark audience and tugged on my sleeve. Quirking an eyebrow at everyone watching, I turned my attention to the Codex and forced my hand through the spine. My arm disappeared up to my elbow in the book, as if I was reaching my hand through a window. I grabbed something sturdy on the other side.

I pulled back, but just before my hand left the book, something clamped around my wrist. It felt like a giant fist was enveloping mine, crushing it as if it were caught between boulders. Pain shot up my arm. The thing on the other side tugged me forward.

Charlie's pleasant expression backpedaled into surprise. She watched with wide eyes as the hand on the other side reached out of the book and grabbed higher on my arm.

I was barely aware of the audience gasping as the Codex fell from Charlie's hands, the weight of whatever was on the other side dragging me to the floor. The shadow claw fumbled to get a better hold, grabbing the back of my head. I struggled to get up, grabbing the claw's fingers and stretching them like elastic away from my face.

The shadow broke apart, its bits vanishing from existence. I fell forward, resting on my hands and knees. The Codex sat open in front of me, looking harmless.

I heard a relieved sigh through the ringing in my ears. Hands touched my arm. I looked up at Charlie. With the face she was wearing, I could almost hear her reprimanding me. _I knew this was a bad idea. You should've listened._

I sighed inwardly. _I knew They were being too quiet. They just were waiting for me to let my guard down, and I gave Them the perfect opportunity to strike._

The Codex shuddered, closing then opening again. I frowned. Both Charlie and I watched the book closely with narrowed eyes. The pages flipped, blowing air in my face and ruffling my hair. I tensed, ready to perform the light spell if needed as the paper settled on the inked circles of the summoning page.

Everyone in the audience was frozen, watching with anticipation for what could only be the next part of the act. The performers in the wings peeked out from dark nooks, curious.

Shadows flashed around the circle, and something dark shot from the pages. I flinched, raising my hands in defense. Something slammed into my middle, knocking the breath out of me. The world shifted around me, spinning out of control faster than I thought was possible. I was lifted off my feet, and my torso felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand. I heard a yelp that sounded like Charlie's.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear people screaming, curtains tearing, wood snapping.

A pool of shadows had formed on the floor, covering the Codex entirely and swirling like a whirlpool. I caught a glimpse of Charlie in the other shadow hand, struggling in its tight grip.

The shadows pulled us towards the dark vortex, and I felt my grip on reality slip away like a dimming light, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to wheeze a light spell, or Charlie's name—something. Nothing was working. I was utterly helpless in the shadow's grasp.

 _No... Charlie._ I couldn't see her anywhere. All I could see was the darkness. _I'm so sorry Charlie._

 

* * *

 

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL

()()()()()()

****MAGICIAN AND ASSISTANT'S FINAL DISAPPEARING ACT** **

_With the earthquake that struck San Francisco at 5:12 am last Wednesday, the world was thrown into chaos. History will never forget the sheer terror of that morning, when the ground pitched like a boat in a storm and lives were lost in a matter of minutes._

_As far as casualties go, we must assume the Amazing Maxwell and his assistant, Miss Charlie Walters, are among them. They were last seen performing at the Orpheum while being filmed by the Eastingway company, whom we must report has also been decimated, every member present dead the following day, either buried in the rubble or burned in the fire. Not only that, but most of the audience witnessing the performance that day has either been counted with the casualties, or has gone missing._

_As the Amazing Maxwell lived, so he died—a man of mystery. The greatest mystery of all was his manner of death. With both bodies missing, it has been assumed that they were both incinerated by the fire that consumed most of San Francisco after the earthquake._

_"I have no idea where they were when the earthquake hit," reports grief-stricken Miss Helda Chavez, a member of a popular comedy trio, now a duo. "All I know is that Jacques... I mean, Mr. Bellerose, met me after their performance and wouldn't stop babbling. He said that something went wrong with the performance, but he didn't say what. He just kept looking over his shoulder as if a gang of thugs was outside, waiting to take him out. But I guess I'll never get to find out what he meant."_

_Their respective families have been contacted about the tragedy, and funeral arrangements have been made. May we all grieve the loss of one of the greatest magic acts of our time, and cherish our memories of the show that made us hold our breath with fear, wonder and anticipation._

 

* * *

 

 **THE END**  
(of _Shadows and Spotlights_ )  
****Intermission****  
To be continued in part II,  
_Smoke and Mirrors._

_Hey guys, thanks for sticking with me, Maxwell and Charlie all this way. It's been one heck of a ride. I've absolutely loved working on this, more than any fanfic to date. It's a miracle this even happened, actually. I wasn't a fan of Maxwell believe it or not until after writing this. I just kinda had this feeling it would be fun to write. These two have become my OTP. I'm baffled as well as concerned by this development._

_So, as for the second installment... well, that's a bit trickier. It would be called Smoke and Mirrors, and it would take place after Charlie and Maxwell are thrown into the actual world of Don't Starve. I prefer my fanfics to be as close to canon as possible, so I've decided to wait to write it until Klei Entertainment has updated its lore. There are rumors that the puzzles and story will continue soon, so I'm looking forward to that. I have some ideas in store for when that time comes._

_Thank you so much for your support! Although the Don't Starve fans are few in number, you guys are the best. And keep your chin up; I know things look grim now, but things will work out one way or another. If Klei doesn't give these guys a happy ending, maybe I'll have to instead. Eventually. Until next time!_


End file.
